


Everyone's Favorite Detective Prince, Goro!

by GauchePear23



Category: Persona 5, 龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crime, Crossover, Gen, No Romance, Persona 5: The Royal, Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza 0 (Video Game) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GauchePear23/pseuds/GauchePear23
Summary: Majima Goro was dead. Conspiracies waged in the underbelly of Tokyo, from the mafia growing in Shibuya, the inner turmoil of the Tojo Clan's top earning family in the Kamurocho district of Shinjuku, and the puppet masters whose influence reached far beyond the sprawling city. Majima Goro was dead...But Akechi Goro, idol high school detective and effective prisoner of the worst bastards the city had to offer, was very much alive, and this dog had no intention but to bite the very hand that feeds him.From dancing in the streets of Kamurocho to delving into the depths of Mementos with intent, nothin' would get in this hitman detective's way!
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro & Niijima Makoto, Akechi Goro & Niijima Sae, Akechi Goro & Shido Masayoshi, Kiryu Kazuma & Majima Goro, Majima Goro & Nishikiyama Akira
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

_2011_

In Sotenbori, the streets overflowed with trash, the 5th Omi Alliance walked the streets in broad daylight, the cabaret club owners beat their debtors in the streets, and the river was the shallow grave of any who crossed the powers that be. Every city had its flaws, its waste, its underside. Osaka’s was concentrated in one neighborhood filled with addicts, drunks, sex workers, immigrants, and the wealthy who came to enjoy the bars and cabaret once the lights were off. 

So it wasn’t unfair that Wen Hai Lee never took kindly to strangers. He’s burned through every damn favor he ever had to get out of the game, and he knew some of his former colleagues were still after his head. His massage parlor, Hogushi Kaiken, was thriving, despite everything. His old reputation as a killer spread among his neighbors, giving him some authority over the other Chinese residents as a protector. Hell, he lived up to it. 

Some men would harass the call girls and the sex workers around his business. He hated to watch, so he put them in their place easily enough. Eventually, he started getting calls from the women about harassers around town. He made it a point to rough them up where they’d be seen by other pricks like them. The girls didn’t have to worry in Sotenbori.

When he met someone new, someone clearly not a customer, he never wavered. An old Korean mob contact tried to drag him back in. All anyone found was a hand in the river. A hitman came on some bounty. He left the body in an alley with a needle through the ear canal. No more hitmen came knocking.

Wen Hai Lee didn’t pretend to be hard. He didn’t act like he would kill. He’d seen things that would leave a man broken and kept on walking. He’d done worse than that. He didn’t threaten, he promised.

But he was still a man. Hell, he was still a father, even if all that was left of that was an ugly emptiness in his stomach, a cold grave, and a permanent scowl he could never erase again. There were some things not even he could look at without flinching.

The two on his doorstep were children. Native Japanese, probably, but children all the same. The boy — he couldn’t have been more than thirteen — held the girl by an arm draped over his shoulder. His ponytail was loose, and half his hair fell around his face. His right eye was shut and crusted with blood. Lee saw enough to know it wouldn’t be saved. 

The girl was even younger, and she bled heavily from a gash to the head. Her hair was shorter than the boy’s. She whimpered, and the boy rubbed her back. 

The boy looked him in the eye. “They said you could help.” He choked out. Then, he collapsed against the doorframe.

Lee stared. The natural thing would’ve been to call the cops, or an ambulance. Get the authorities involved, find out who did it, and get the two into some kind of protective custody. That’s what was expected of a civilian, of someone who’d left the game behind.

He knew better. 

They came to him. Not a clinic, not a hospital, not a random house on the side of the road. Him, Wen Hai Lee, ex-hitman, masseuse, local pillar of the Chinese community, and firmly established outlaw. No one within the confines of the law could save them. He pulled out his old flip phone.

“Doc, get a fucking bed ready!” He growled into the phone, before hanging up and shoving it back into his pocket. He bent low and lifted both of the kids. They felt so small, so weak. He gritted his teeth and walked.

The mahjong parlor was not even a block away, but witnesses were everywhere. He was careful moving them to the building. Back alleyways were his friend. The homeless would keep their mouths shut about this. He’d roughed a few of them up for less. If someone was going in through the back door, then the vagrants knew better than to run their damn mouths.

The door was locked, so he kicked it down. The doctor stepped out of the back room, surgical gloves on. Lee knew it was a formality. In a building like this, sterility was a pipe dream. “Get them in the room,” The doctor ordered.

The regulars all knew this could happen. They left quickly. Good. The Chinese stuck together, no Yakuza would get the locations of the kids out of them. The doctor closed the door to his operating room. Lee stood outside, useless.

The clock ticked. The doctor didn’t come out. Lee paced. The sun began to come up. The doctor still wasn’t done. Lee kicked a chair. Another hour, no word. Lee grit his teeth until it felt like they’d break.

Finally, the doctor came out. “The boy’s eye is gone.” He reported. “A piece of metal flew into it, probably from an explosion. His ribs are broken, and he had major bruising across his body. He’s lucky to be alive.”

“And the girl?” Lee asked impatiently.

“She got off lucky. Just the head wound. Her eyes, however, are unresponsive.” The doctor shrugged. “She responded to everything else. But we won’t know for sure until she wakes up.”

Lee grunted. The kids were alive. Someone wanted them dead. He could see that much pretty easily. But besides that, none of this made sense. They couldn’t be a threat, could they be?

Whatever. He didn’t care. “Doctor, I need their uniforms.” The doctor’s eyes widened, but he didn’t look away. After a pause, he nodded and left the room. He returned with their clothes and wallets.

He wasn’t gonna kill some kids. But there were adults who could fit the bill, if they were roughed up enough. Plant the IDs nearby, use the uniforms to judge who he’d need. As far as the world knew, Makimura Makoto and Majima Goro were dead.

He stepped out of the mahjong parlor and walked around the city. At the edge of the river, a short homeless man leaned against a concrete wall. Long, black hair, slight build, lost look in his eyes. No one would miss him. In an alley by the park, a small woman with short hair lay between two dumpsters. The night was cold. It seemed she passed in the dark. That made it easier.

One of his friends would collect her, take her to the river where he’d need her. On his way back to the bank, he picked up a baseball bat from Don Quijote’s. The homeless man didn’t even look up at him before he swung. The woman’s body was delivered, and he got to work.

A man like him deserved no mercy, no consideration at all. “God Hands,” they called him. It wasn’t for his damn massages, even if he knew what he was doing. Yeah, they were the hands of a god. A cruel and terrible one.

But he’d be damned before he let a few kids who came to _him,_ of all people, for help, be killed by some two bit yakuza thugs.

  
  


_9th June, 2016_

“Akechi!” The manager hissed. “Where the hell have you been?”

The boy blinked. Or winked. It was pretty much the same thing, with one eye. “There was a delay on the commute.” He grinned. “Had to cut through the park, and you know how people recognize me! A few people had some problems they needed help with, so I gave them a hand!”

“Oh? Really? Great!” His manager clapped him too hard on the shoulder. “I’m so glad that the reason you missed the television spot we’ve been setting up for two weeks is because _some homeless guy lost his turtle!”_

“What, homeless? You can’t be judgin’ the guys at Inokashira Park like that!” Akechi shook his head. “It was a salaryman who needed a spot! His girl’s birthday’s comin’ up and his bonus got cut, so he needed a few thousand yen to get her a nice necklace.”

“...”

“So I took him to the jewelry shop, helped him find a nice one, spotted him some money, roughed up the muggers who tried to take it from him.” Akechi shrugged. “It took a little longer than I thought, but I was just doin’ my duty as everyone’s favorite Detective Prince!”

“Get the hell out of my face.” The manager slammed his fist against the wall. “Interview’s rescheduled to tomorrow morning. Don’t miss it again.” He stalked off through the halls of the TV station, wound up tighter than an alarm clock during finals week.

Akechi whistled. “Wow. All that for one missed interview, eh? The ol’ bastard must be riding him dry these days.” He shrugged. “Not like it’ll matter. I ain’t gonna off him, and the _boss_ knows it.” He turned and walked away. He was hungry, and there had to be a vending machine _somewhere_ in this dump.

He hummed as he walked down the hallway, swinging his suitcase to a beat only he could hear. He’d heard the song when he met Sae Nijima at a karaoke bar to talk about the mental shutdown cases where his great benefactors couldn’t listen in. The damn song never left his head since. It killed Sae to hear it. She really hated it. 

So he made it a point to sing it wherever he went. It brought him joy, after all.

“Sunao ni I Love You!” He sang under his breath. “Todokeyou kitto You Love Me!” It was damn cheesy, but it was one of those things you didn’t even want getting out of your head! It was just a nice song, y’know?

“Did you guys hear that?” He heard a high pitched voice around one of the corners. They sounded young and maybe fun and definitely less boring than all the producers with their sticks up their asses. He grinned and walked over. “It sounded like…”

“Singing?” He offered. Three teenagers in school uniform leaning against one of the walls in one of the dead end corridors the TV station was filled with. They gaped at his sudden appearance. “I ain’t no idol, but it was probably me you heard. Any of you guys see a vending machine?” 

The blond guy was the first to recover. “Saw one a few hallways down, but don’t hold your breath. All it had was trail mix.”

Akechi winced. “I’ll grab some Big Bang Burger later, then.” He glanced at the students’ pants uniforms. “You must be the students from Shujin, yeah? Heard they were takin’ you out on a field trip here. How’re you liking it?”

Blondie’s shoulders slumped. “It sucks.”

“Ryuji!” The girl admonished him. “Don’t say that to-“

“Ugh, it’s all so boring!” Akechi ran a hand through his bangs. “It’s always so much prep and complaining and more prep, and ‘You’re late, Goro,’ ‘You can’t say that, Goro!’ ‘Take the damn sunglasses off and put on the eyepatch, Goro!’ It’s like they don’t even want to interview me half the time!”

“Umm…” The girl blinked. “Huh.”

“Looks like someone here doesn’t have a stick up their-” The girl elbowed him in the side. “Ow. Sorry, Ann.” Ryuji smiled. “Goro, yeah?”

Goro smiled. “Akechi Goro, at your service!” He gave a theatrical bow. “I doubt there’s much I can really do for you right now, though.” He cackled. 

The black haired boy twisted one of his bangs. “You could tell us how to kill time on set tomorrow.”

“Oh, that? It’s easy!” Akechi leaned in close. “Leave. Find a nice homeless guy to talk to, maybe run a favor for a lost kid or poor bastard who forgot his anniversary. Do _anything_ else.”

“Don’t give Ryuji any encouragement. But that’s about what I expected.” The boy smirked at Ryuji’s ‘hey!’ and patted his bag. A cat poked its head out and stared into Akechi. Akechi gazed right back into it.

“Why did we come here?” Ryuji groaned. “There has to be a better field trip, right?”

“Why are you complaining, you thought this would be cool two hours ago!” Ann shook her head. 

“I didn’t know what was here two hours ago! I wish I did, I’d probably have ditched!” Ryuji sputtered. “Besides, I only picked this trip cuz you and Akira were going! It’s not like any of the other ones were any better.”

“I think I fell asleep.” Akira admitted. 

“Haha! The program’s that bad?” Akechi felt his phone vibrate, and he pulled it out. _Amamiya Shinji, taxi driver. Shutdown._ The number was blocked. His smile dampened. “I wish I could stay to talk, but it looks like duty calls! Later, Ryuji-han! Ann-han! Akira-chan!”

“Hey, don’t call me that!”

“We don’t even know you!” 

He was already halfway down the hall, cackling all the way. He had to enjoy the tiny moments. Sure, he took some pleasure from work. But this part was always the worst. He left the building and walked towards the train station. He had some time before he reached Shibuya. He got a seat on the train, too. Lucky him. He took the opportunity to look the guy up in the real world.

Taxi driver in Shibuya, worked for one of the larger taxi companies. He didn’t care much about the name. It wasn’t linked to his boss, so it was just another target. Apparently, the guy hit an old lady a few weeks ago while pulling out and broke her walker. Lady damn near had a heart attack, and went to the hospital for minor scrapes. The dude got probation and was still around.

Putting him down while driving meant that the company would take a hit. Rumors about overworking among the staff were common, and this incident would put the final nail in the coffin. He opened the Metaverse Navigator. He didn’t know when it got on his phone, or why, who made it, or what purpose it was supposed to have besides the obvious “interdimensional navigation” bullshit. Some self absorbed punks would probably assume it was god’s blessing to do whatever they wanted with it or somethin’, like a stuck up vengeful demigod. 

To Akechi? It was a means to an end. Just a tool he needed to accomplish his tasks, and nothing more. He checked Shinji’s name in the Nav. He got a hit - a shadow in an offshoot of an early path of humanity’s cognition. It would be an easy hit. He stomached his dread.

_Hitmen don’t get cold feet._

He stepped off of the train and slipped into the crowds of the Shibuya Crossing. An alleyway a few meters into Central Street gave him a little bit of privacy. He ducked behind a small street sign and activated the app -- Keyword, Amamiya Shinji, Destination Mementos.

The world twisted around him. Reality seemed to ripple at the seams. People twisted in and out of existence until they simply faded away. The sky boiled until it turned a deep, bloody red. Besides that, the world wasn’t warped at the surface, like it was in the abominable worlds the truly distorted dreamt up in their hearts. But it was a different world all the same.

His will of rebellion manifested beneath his clothes and as the hannya mask that covered his face. He touched the knife hanging from his waste. No sense in getting it dirty here. He walked down the alley and found his chest. Tonfa were too awkward to use against most Shadows. The wooden katana was too light. His hand settled on the leather grip of the baseball bat. 

He always settled on the baseball bat.

He walked across the empty Shibuya Crossing into the empty station and pushed his way past some chains. The Palace of the People, Mementos, was filled with them. Chained doors, chained walls, chains on the floor, chains dangling from the ceiling. The demonic custodian of the Palace, the Reaper, dragged chains through the distorted train tunnels to announce his presence. The only things without chains were the Shadows themselves, which were just ugly piles of muck.

They spawned by the hundreds, filling the empty train tracks and wandering aimlessly through the ever-changing paths. He ran through the subway with a baseball bat held at his side. Shadows turned towards him and chased him through the tunnels. He shrieked with excitement as he turned and slammed the bat into the leg of one of his pursuers. It fell to the floor, and he flipped off of the bat and smashed his knee into its ribs. It deflated into a weird demon lady and some kind of slime?

The slime ducked at him, and he danced out of the way. He hopped over a small burst of fire, swaying low to the ground. He rolled onto his shoulder and kicked his legs out in the air, slamming his heel into a fairy-shaped Shadow and knocking it to the ground.

A while back, while walking around one night he couldn’t sleep, a group of kids a little older than him took over an alleyway. They swaggered at each other and postured, and he was half a second from finding another route when one of the guys dropped to the ground and began break dancing. It was damn impressive, even if the other dude blew him out of the water, and more than that, it was damn near inspiring.

So whenever he went down into the depths of Mementos, he put his own spin on those kids’ street stunts. He wasn’t fighting all out when he did this. He never really tried to against small fry like this. He was just taking the opportunity to enjoy some high-impact break dancing.

He struck a pose, then kicked his legs across the ground, swaying from one hand to the other as he swept the floor with the shadows. They fell apart. They always dropped some money or some useful items, and today he was lucky enough to score some cold hard moolah. He took the money and kept walking. The distortion he was looking for was only a little farther away.

He walked right in. The taxi driver was pacing across the ground. “Gotta make more, more, more more more more more. There’s no point if I can’t make more, gotta feed the dog, gotta pay the bills, gotta get the water back on, gotta gotta gotta--”

“Oi, asshole!” Akechi called. “You hit an old lady the other day! If ya can’t even see where you’re going, then get another damn job!!”

“There _are_ no other jobs! Not for someone like me. Besides, I need to make more!” The man cried. “More, more, more! I can’t live like this!”

“I’ve been there,” Akechi admitted. His voice dropped an octave. “But brushing off an old lady? That’s low. Be a man and take some damn responsibility.”

“What, you think you can judge?” The man laughed. “Come at me! I’ll take what you can give — and then some!”

The Shadow collapsed into a new form. It was a demon on a toilet, and Akechi didn’t like it. More than that, it was a demon on a toilet that was flying. “No break dancing, eh?” He groaned. “You can’t even make this part fun.”

He ducked to the side as it sprayed ice at him. “Ohoho, close!” He laughed, dodging inwards. His baseball bat smashed into the side of the toilet bowl. Another spike of ice flew. He blocked it with the bat, then swung it for the demon’s ankle. It shattered with an easy crunch, and the Shadow cried in pain, falling to the ground.

He grinned, placing the bat at his back and pulling out the knife. He jumped up, cutting at the demon’s face several times before throwing the knife in the air. He punched the Shadow twice, before swinging his leg in a wide arc. His knife fell down as he lashed out and he drove it point first into the Shadow’s knee like a hammer drives a nail into lumber.

It screeched. Then it fell silent. He pulled the knife back out and the shadow reverted back to its original form. He sighed. Here came the hurt.

“I’m sorry.” The Shadow said, looking at his hands. “I’ve just been working so hard for so little. I couldn’t stop to think about being safe. I scared that woman so bad.”

“You did.” Akechi agreed quietly. “The company’s been mistreating its employees for a while. It’s no excuse, but it’s a fact. Shitty circumstances don’t make it right.”

“I’ll go back. I’ll go back and atone, starting with that woman’s hospital bills.” The Shadow looked up with a renewed resolve. “I’ll—“

_Bang._

The Shadow fell to the floor with a gasp. Akechi lowered his gun in disgust. “You won’t.” He said quietly. “The company’s going down. What difference that makes? Who fuckin’ knows.”

“Why?” The Shadow asked.

“Why?” Akechi narrowed his eye. “Doesn’t make a difference, does it?”

_Bang._

The Shadow fell silent. Then it dissolved into nothing.

“Why.” He exhaled. “You know, when ya kill, it’s something that sticks with you forever.” Akechi said to himself. “When all this shit started, everyone kept saying the same shit to me. The second you do it, you lose something important. Somethin’ that helps keep ya human. I ignored ‘em, of course. Wasn’t realistic to think that way.”

He put the knife back in his sheath, and put away his gun. “Or there’s the other shit they always yammered on about. Ya kill for someone else, and they’ve gotta carry that forever. Or you lie, and your hands stay bloody for nothin’. I was more comfortable with the second.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll see ya in my nightmares, Shinji. And when I wake up, I’ll do it all again.”

He turned and walked out of Amamiya Shinji’s distortion. The Shadows didn’t bother him on his way back up. He pushed past the chains and walked back into the reflected Shibuya, and back down the alley with the chest. He placed the bat back in its spot and closed it, then walked back behind the sign and ended his navigation. The distortion of the world fell away like a curtain, and the buzz of Shibuya returned.

It was nighttime. He pulled his phone out and texted the boss. _Shinji down._ Nothing else. If the man had a problem, he could damn well deal with it. He passed Big Bang Burger as he walked, but he didn’t feel like eating. His apartment was far from Central Street, and he felt dead on his feet by the time he reached it. He walked through the alleyway that marked the entrance and walked up the rickety stairs that felt like they’d collapse if he did any more than run on them. 

The room was nearly empty. There was a sleeping bag on the floor, a rack for his shoes, some extra clothes, an ironing board, and the bathroom. He pulled off his shoes and left his clothes in a pile outside the shower. The water heater didn’t work, so he was in and out with just enough time to get clean. 

He toweled off and hung the towel from the door. Then he walked back into his empty apartment and lay down. It wasn’t completely empty. Next to his cot, a small framed picture lay face down on the floor. He didn’t ever look at it. He didn’t need to. For her, he’d bathe in as much blood as the world demanded.

He’d kill anyone who got in his way.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

_ 10th June, 2016 _

Akechi didn’t really sleep. He crawled into his sleeping bag, yes. He closed his eyes, and could be described as being ‘unconscious’ for a period of time. But he never really slept. He either pretended he was sleeping, or just lay awake for a while. And it was still a sight better than when he did sleep. 

That night, he did sleep. He dreamed about a cramped room, a lumpy bed, roaches in the pillowcase, lice on another boy’s hairbrush. He dreamt of a vice closing around his wrist and dragging him into a van. He dreamt of a smaller girl with him, and a knife at his face. He dreamt of a missed gunshot, the smell of gas. He felt a piercing in his head, and looked up to see the face of Amamiya Shinji glaring from above, surrounded by an endless crowd of corpses.

He turned and he ran and ran and ran with the girl. He ducked into an alley and heard footsteps closing in and her arm was grabbed and she screamed, so he broke the man’s wrist. Then a hammer swung out of the crowd and hit the girl in the face, and she fell to the ground. He screamed and he kicked the attacker’s knee till it snapped, then swung a pipe at the specters until they backed off. He pulled her back up and shambled away into the darkness, the haunting laughter of their pursuers echoing through the endless prison of concrete.

He sat up, a hand flying up to his empty eye socket. His breath was ragged, hurried, and his eye flew around the room. It was empty, except for the baseball bat leaning against the ironing board. There was no girl, no heat, no grip on his arm. There was no Amamiya Shinji judging him with dead eyes and a hole in his skull.

He looked at the clock. Four seventeen. The coffee shops wouldn’t even be open by now. Akechi scoffed. “All that, and not even three hours?” He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looked at his phone. No notifications. Good. He slowly pulled himself out of bed. He wasn’t going back to sleep. He may as well just go for a walk.

Kamurocho wasn’t exactly a spot where anyone would want a high schooler living, and his apartment was in an especially shitty spot. A vending machine full of porno mags sat two feet from his apartment’s stairs, and it wasn’t an unpopular one either. A cabaret club was open on the street the alleyway opened up to, and a host club was only a few hundred meters further down.

More than any of that, though, was the city’s status as the center of one of the most powerful yakuza families in Kanto’s Tojo Clan. The Dojima family controlled half the city’s real estate, and their racketeering was infamous. Akechi passed an alleyway, paying no mind to the men in loud suits kicking a man on the ground. Maybe he could help the guy. But it sure as hell wasn’t worth the price.

He got to the train station a little before five in the morning. The next train would arrive at five o’clock sharp, so he sat down at a bench by his platform. He had a meeting with Sae that afternoon after the Good Morning Japan interview — apparently, the mafia operating in Shibuya was getting a little big for its britches. 

Sae bought him food a lot. She respected him as much as she could with his, well...Goro-ness. And he knew she was just trying to take care of her sister and carve a path for herself. He respected it. 

Kaneshiro was the boss’s flunky. He was a damn good earner, bringing in millions of yen a week. And he wasn’t exactly yakuza, either, so the cops had no idea who the hell he could be. If Akechi laid a finger on him, he’d be dead in hours.

But if Sae did it? Why, that’d just be an unfortunate accident. Akechi grinned. A few pokes about students here, a mention of coke and heroin there, point to how public lockers were damn hard to get a warrant for these days, and she’d be well on her way to bustin’ Kaneshiro’s goons and working her way to the top.

He got on the train and headed to school. He had to pretend he cared about going to class, after all. He’d be called out before the second period, sure, but it was more about getting the attendance and some teachers’ notes to help him pass than anything.

“Is that him?” He heard a girl whisper a little further in the cart. “That’s gotta be him.”

“He’s wearing an eyepatch, of course it’s him!” Her friend hissed. “What do we do?”

“How should I know?! You’re the one who watches all his—“

“Shh!” The girl tried to take a sneak look at him. He could see clear as day even with her standing in his blindspot. “He’ll hear you! Get his autograph for me!”

“No, you do it!”

Akechi yawned. “Ahhhh, maaan, it’s awfully terrible sittin’ by myself on this empty ass train! It’d be great to have some company!”

He saw one girl elbow the other, then get elbowed back in return. She steeled herself and sat down on the bench across from him. “G-good morning…” She said hesitantly.

“Mornin’ to you, too!” He said cheerily, leaning forward. “Man, it’s early for the train! I thought I’d be the only one ridin’ this early!”

The girl relaxed a little. “We’re on the student council at our school, so we have to get in as soon as the teachers do. We try to get all our affairs in order before the day begins.”

“All that, before classes even start?” Akechi whistled. “Man, that’s a hustle! I can respect that kinda attitude. The name’s Goro.”

“I-I know.” The girl gave a small smile before clearing her throat. “I’m Seki Yoka.”

“Yoka-chan, eh?” The girl made a slightly distressed noise, but Akechi just brushed it off. “You’re workin’ hard all this time! Here,” He pulled a pocket tissue out of his pocket and whipped out a pen. He signed his name and wrote down an email address. “I’m actually a bit of a detective, if you’d believe that.” She choked. “So if you’re ever in need of someone to find ya somethin’, you know who to call.”

“I-I…” The girl stared at the tissue.

Akechi winked. “The Detective Prince can’t just turn down a request from a fan, can he?” The girl just stared. The train slowed to a crawl and stopped. He hopped to his feet. “Oh, that’s my stop. Take care, yeah?” He turned to her friend. “Mind makin’ sure she gets off the right platform?”

“S-sure.” The other girl mumbled, staring at him in disbelief.

“Thanks a ton, stranger!” He laughed. Not quite his genuine cackle, but a more practice, acceptable version of it. “Catch ya around!”

He stepped off the train and rubbed his neck. “Maaaaaaan, being a celebrity’s a pain!” He complained. “But if it’s that easy to make a stranger’s day, then it ain’t worth bein’ a dick.”

He stalked off towards his classes with a hand in his pocket and his mind focused on the acquisition of a good cup of joe.

  
  


“You’re not late.” The manager said. “I’m surprised. What, no homeless man needing a burger?”

“There was a debtor in an alley on the way here, but I figured this interview was more important than his legs.” Akechi lied. He did help the guy, but his manager could take being knocked down a peg or two. “How long till we’re on?”

“You disgust me.” The manager said simply. Of course he did, this was one of the boss’. He knew what Akechi did, how he got here. The boss loved reminding the people under him how screwed they were if they messed with him. “Twenty minutes. Just enough time to get changed.”

“Nice, nice.” Akechi nodded, before heading to the changing room. “And is today a suit day, or a detective day?”

“Smartass!” The manager growled as he walked off. Akechi shrugged. The man hated him, but he stayed. There wasn’t any good in antagonizing him, but oh was it  _ fun  _ to get below his skin. Especially with that damn attitude he always had.

He looked at the two outfits laid out. One was a nice black and white suit, with a black tie to match. It sold the image of professionalism and dignity, all good things for people not named Goro.

The other was a nice, khaki long coat and grey slacks. It was like a modern version of what those old detectives always wore in the movies. It sold the impression of mystery and modern fashion.

He liked the detective suit. But the manager hated the normal suit. But he  _ liked _ the detective suit. Shrugging, he pulled off his school uniform and put on the detective outfit and checked the mirror. The eyepatch offset the preppy nature of the look, making him look more rugged. He smiled wide and opened his eye as wide as he could, and it took on a sinister glint.

Having an eyepatch was fun.

He stepped out of the dressing room. The manager whose face he was already sick of for the day sat on a box just off of where the set would be shooting. “You're in the right damn outfit this time.”

Akechi shrugged. “The suit seems better for a formal thing. This? I wanna be comfortable.”

“Perfect.” The manager waved at the director. “Yoshizawa-san! Detective Akechi is ready for the interview.”

“Right on schedule.” Yoshizawa smiled at Akechi. “It’s been a while since you were last on. Still eating that junk?”

“No way I wouldn’t be.” Akechi grinned and shook the director’s hand. “That stuff keeps me goin’, I swear. Wouldn’t be here without it.”

“Careful. My daughter still lectures me about my nutrition. If she got her teeth into you again…” Yoshizawa clicked his tongue. “Anyways, we’ll be starting in a minute. Shujin students are the love audience for today, and the Phantom Thieves are on the itinerary. Are you prepared?”

“I will be, in a minute.” Akechi winked, and the director’s smile turned deadly. He turned and walked onto the set. He heard some squeals from the students in the chairs, and couldn’t help but grin. The hosts looked at him and nodded. It wasn’t the first time they did this song and dance, after all.

The cameraman was talking. “Cutting back from commercials in eight, seven, six, five…”

The woman host smiled at the camera “And now, onto the ‘Hottest Meet and Greet!’ Everyone’s favorite morning wake up with a guest you all wanted!”

“Today, we’re excited to bring a special favorite ally of justice. The heir to the Detective Prince title himself, Akechi Goro!” The students clapped for a respectable amount of time. It was less staged than usual, anyways. “And how are you doing this morning, Akechi?”

“Nice to be back on the show, honestly.” Akechi grinned. “I almost forgot how comfortable these seats are! So nice…”

“Are they?” The woman asked, amused. “What kinds of chairs do you usually sit in?”

“I can’t see the Detective Prince sitting in any chair that didn’t meet his standards.” The man added.

Akechi waved it off. “I’m a student, too, ain’t I? There’s plenty of bad chairs in schools. And I don’t spend enough time at home to sit in a nice chair. You’ve gotta enjoy every nice chair you get to sit in.”

“Do you really work that hard?” The woman asked. “It must be a lot, balancing school and work with a good social life and maintaining the following you have.”

“Isn’t it?” Akechi laughed, and the hosts laughed with him too. “See, I don’t actually balance it. I guess you can say that my life is my work, and my friends are my coworkers. The only supporters I need after that are my fans.”

He heard some cooing from the audience, and stifled another laugh. That would just be mean.

“Speaking of which,” The man started. “There are some awfully odd cases these days, aren’t they?”

“What, talking about those Phantom Thieves?” Akechi raised an eyebrow. “Man, getting right to the point today. I like it!”

“Well, they are the talk of the town these days.” The woman said. “First, a corrupt teacher taking advantage of his position, then a famous artist who’s been cheating the system for years? And with those public calling cards, too. I hear they’re  _ very _ popular with the youth.”

“Oh, they are.” Akechi assured her. “I was in class for one period, and the kid next to me kept on askin’ me what was the deal with them! I don’t exactly know much about them, but I can take a few guesses.”

“By all means, then.” 

Akechi grinned. “Well, they’re mostly going after the big guns. People usin’ their influence to take advantage of people below them. It’s all super just and righteous and all that.” He paused. “I do hope they’re careful, though.”

“Why’s that?” The woman host asked.

“Well, they’re clearly usin’ a very effective strategy to change hearts.” Akechi tapped his fingers against his knee. “Now, if they’re just, and doin’ the right thing? It’s all good. Maybe not totally legal, but it’d be hard to find someone who wants them gone for anything but self interest. But if someone were to, say, get some dirt on them?” He shook his head. “It’d be a damn tragedy.”

The man frowned. “So what you’re saying is that...you don’t have a problem with the Phantom Thieves, but you’re worried about what their power could do in the wrong hands.”

“Bingo.” Akechi’s smile disappeared. “If the Phantom Thieves stay doin’ good? Then it’s all good. If they go down clean? Sucks, but it’s how it is. But if someone gets dirt on them?” He whistled. “That’s when everything gets messy.”

“So...do you think they should keep going, then?” The woman asked. “If the damage they do can be so dangerous, then is it right for them to keep going?”

“For their own justice? Yeah.” Akechi paused. “Everyone’s gotta carve their own path, regardless of what people say or think. Otherwise, ya ain’t even living.” He shrugged. “But, who knows? Maybe selfish justice is the last damn thing we need in this city. I doubt the people they’re facin’ cared much about what other people would think, either.”

The hosts both looked more than a little uncomfortable. Akechi paid it no mind. He wasn’t here to espouse the justice of those amateurs, anyways. They were digging into something bigger than them. It was better to kill their morale and let them fade than end up with a few more names on his hit list.

“W-well then.” The woman smiled. “It’s time to check in with our audience. Please, press the red button if you think the Phantom Thieves exist.” A peppy sound cue sounded as the students pressed the buttons or waited out the period. The woman looked at a screen near the camera man. “Wow! Nearly thirty percent!”

Akechi cocked his head to the side. “That’s a pretty big number. Then again, I prolly would’ve clicked too.” His trademark grin returned. “It’s a damn nice thought, to think they’re out there, doin’ some good. I would like to hear their take on all this nonsense.”

“That is a wonderful idea!” The woman stood up and walked into the aisle. “Let’s get a new take from the audience. How about you, young man? What do you think about the Phantom Thieves?”

There was a shift in the seating. Some of the students gave the kid a stink eye -- wait, that was one of the kids from the other day! Akira, if he remembered correctly. Akechi leaned in. This was something he kinda wanted to hear. Akira-chan leaned towards the mic, took a moment, and said, “They do more than the cops.”

Laugh track. Akechi would’ve laughed for real if the damn laugh track didn’t kill the mood harder than a bunch of booing. He did smile, though. “That’s pretty funny. I doubt the cops would’ve even looked at an artist like Madarame and asked questions, no matter the rumors. So you’re in the Phandom?”

“Please,” Akira groaned. “Never say that again.”

Akechi couldn’t help but cackle. Onstage. “That’s a yes, then! Alright, so then lemme ask you this. The Phantom Thieves, if they ended up being caught up or blackmailed by someone with ill will, who just wanted to use them to push their own agenda. What do you think they’d do?”

Akira paused. He didn’t look concerned about the question, but more like he was deliberating over how he wanted to word it. Finally, he looked Akechi right in the eye. “They would face their oppressors head on.”

Akechi stared at Akira-chan. Then he laughed again. “Man, you’ve got some faith! Never seen anything quite like that in a studio!” He turned to the hosts. “You should have students sit in more often, it sure spices things up!”

The pair looked like they wanted to die. He counted that as an absolute win.

  
  


“Yo, wait up!” 

“Akechi?” Akira turned around. It looked like the cat was still in his bag. Akechi sure as hell wasn’t gonna tell anyone about that, though. “Do you need something?”

“Do I need somethin’?” Akechi repeated. Then he scoffed. “Nah, it ain’t about anything like that. I wanted to say that you’ve got some guts, talking back to the dude on stage.” He grinned. “I like it.”

“Ah.” Akira shrugged. “I’m not going to say something I don’t believe just because it’s going to be on TV.”

Akechi exhaled dramatically. “Man, if only everyone was like you! These interviews would be a hell of a lot less boring with some guy’s with balls in them, don’t ya think so?”

Akira shrugged.

“Anyways, I guess I did need somethin’ from ya.” Akechi cleared his throat. “There’s this place in Kichijoji. Nice one, it’s got good music, vending machine. Darts and billiards and bowling, all that shit. I go there a lot to study. The atmosphere kills my focus, but that shit’s worth it.” He clapped his hand on Akira-chan’s shoulder. “Ya ever wanna talk about this shit again, play a round? I’ll be there.”

He turned and began to walk away. “The singing guy seems to like you.” A boyish voice said behind him. He didn’t need to look back -- there was no one there but the Shujin student and his cat. Akechi’s grin grew wider as he walked away.

“Aren’t you an interesting one,” He sang, “Akira-chan?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's reading, and I hope you all enjoy the chapter! For everyone who does, expect an update sometime this coming week!


	3. Chapter 3

_ 10th June, 2016 _

“Another interview? It’s like you’re trying to cultivate the image of an idol.” Sae raised an eyebrow at Akechi. “Some days, I wonder why the commission still consults you.”

“That’s cold, Sae-han.” He took a sip of his Big Bang Burger milkshake. “I ain’t got control over my own marketing. That’s all my manager. Besides, I’ve been helpin’ plenty with these shutdown cases, haven’t I?”

“You have.” Sae admitted. “You’ve been a great help. That doesn’t change the fact that you contradict the police’s stance on the Phantom Thieves on live TV, or that the last time we met was in a karaoke club. Or that you brought  _ that _ into a five star restaurant.”

“They didn’t have any milkshakes on the menu, did they?” Akechi grinned. “Sae-han, relax. There’s nothin’ wrong with bringing your own drink into a fine establishment like this! I’m sure the wait staff would agree.”

“Only because you’ve made yourself an idol.”

Akechi frowned. “Sae-han, this isn’t like you. Somethin’ going on?”

“Constantly,” She bit out. She took a deep breath. “The director vetoed my proposal to link the investigation of the mental shutdown cases with the recent reports in negligent operation of services.”

“That’s a hell of a proposal.” Akechi said, putting down his milkshake. “What set you on that trail, anyways?”

“The train incident in April. The mental shutdown of the engineer occurs directly before the most dangerous curve on the line, and exposes a failure in the automatic braking of the carts?” Sae shook her head. “That doesn’t exactly come off as trustworthy.”

“I suppose I can see that.” Akechi admitted. Shit. This wasn’t good. “But that’s a one off incident, ain’t it? You really think any good could come from following this?”

“I didn’t.” Sae admitted. “But then I turned up some old morticians’ records. Specifically, I found one of the early mental shutdown victims. The woman’s name was Isshiki Wakaba, and her area of study was cognitive psience.” 

Akechi wanted to break something.

Sae continued unhindered. “A few weeks after her funding is frozen by the government, she falls into the street right before her daughter. Her death is ruled a suicide, but looking back at the morticians’ notes, her brain displayed the same symptoms of the mental shutdwon victims. Maybe her death was the first mental shutdown incident.”

“Ah.” Akechi nodded. “I can see why you would draw that conclusion. Do you plan to follow up on it?”

“I just told you the director forbade it.” Sae said. “Besides, the woman’s research is nearly all classified. If I wanted to get a hold of it, I would need both an excuse and an opportunity to collect whatever is left from her next of kin.”

“I see.” The gambler, then. If this was taken any further, he’d need to pay him a visit. Or maybe just set a few of his sharks back on his tail. “In any case, I do have something that might make your life a little easier.”

“Do you, now?” 

Akechi grinned. “One nice thing about being in high school is that it keeps your ear close to the ground. Students suck at hiding their gossip, especially.” 

Sae exhaled. “Could you get to the point?”

“Patience is a virtue, ya know!” Akechi sobered up. “I’ve been keepin’ my ears focused over in Kamurocho too. Heard some yakuza thugs rantin’ about competition at the edges of Shinjuku, around the border. Think they were talkin’ about your latest paycheck.”

“Oh?” Sae’s eyes narrowed. 

“Oh, yes.” Akechi cocked his head to the side. “But it ain’t the thugs that’ve been most helpful. Apparently, there’s been a few too many fools on Central Street, giving off the wrong impression. Foreign suits and flashy shirts, makin’ people think they’re yakuza when you were on the commission that ran ‘em all out two years ago.”

“Interesting.” Sae leaned forward in her seat. “Though they clearly aren’t yakuza.”

“Oh, no, of course not!” Akechi grinned. “Italian suits aren’t exclusive to the Tojo Clan. All these guys have been doin’ is harassing high school kids and renting out too many lockers. I doubt any of that could be criminal.”

“No, none of it.” Sae smiled. “Talking about very legal enterprises has made me hungry, though. I heard this place has good sushi.”

“I’ve been looking to try their fillet steak. I’ve never had sushi with a chocolate milkshake before.” Akechi took another drag from his milkshake. “...you’re paying, right?”

Sae glared at him with something between pity and disgust. He just laughed.

  
  


_ 12th June, 2016 _

The next few days were slow. Akechi walked around Kamurocho for some hours. Turned out there was a slot car race track up north by the main road. Maybe he should give it a try at some point. 

Some hotshots tried to harass a woman one night. He wouldn’t stand for that, of course. He’d looked both ways to make sure no one was watching, and later that night he scrubbed the blood off of his shoes. He had to maintain his sharp image, after all.

The next day was Sunday. Entrance exams day. He showed up in a button down and his suit pants. It wasn’t every day he had to compete against the brightest minds in Tokyo for the honor of being accepted into some stuffy college he’d never get the chance to go to, so he may as well look good for it!

The information wasn’t hard. It wasn’t hard at all. He’d memorized this crap for years just so school would give him a flexible detective schedule to make his time matter, and applying it to some dumbass exams didn’t change the fact he’d never get this shit out of his brain.

It was there that he ran into Sae’s little sister. “Nijima Makoto-chan!” Akechi grinned. “It’s been so long! Student Council treatin’ ya well?”

“Akechi.” She said in a forced tone. “I see you’re still…lively. The Student Council has been going well. The paperwork can be a lot sometimes, but it’s a privilege.”

Akechi winced. “Ooh, man. Gettin’ all that bureaucratic shit in line is a pain! Worst part of workin’ with Sae-han. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, and I ain’t even doing the half of it!”

“...my load isn’t as bad as Sis’s.” Nijima admitted. “Is...is she doing alright? She seems stressed lately.”

“A lot on her plate, is all!” Akechi shrugged. “Phantom Thieves, mental shutdowns, tax evasion. There’s even rumors of that new mafia in Shibuya! If there’s one thing Sae-han the Clanbreaker hates, it’s organized crime. But she’ll beat ‘em to the curb soon enough.”

“...that’s good.” Makoto sighed. “Thank you, Akechi.”

“Ah, it’s nothin’.” He cleared his throat. “How’d ya think you did on the test?”

“I performed to the best of my abilities.” Makoto smiled. “I believe that will be more than enough.”

“Lucky~!” Akechi laughed. “I was studyin’ for this stuff for the last few weeks! If only I could be like the naturally talented, beautiful Nijima sisters!”

“You don’t need to lie.”

“Who said it was a lie?” Akechi winked, and she rolled her eyes. “Ya seem to be feelin’ better. We both prolly got paperwork to finish, though, so I’m gonna head on out.”

“Right.” She nodded. “And thanks. For looking out for Sae.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta keep her head on straight!” Akechi turned and started walking away. “Ya keep her sane at home, ya hear?” He didn’t wait for an answer. After all, today he was gonna cut loose, and the boss didn’t have shit he could say about it.

It was that night he made it back to the Metaverse, three days since his last visit. He didn’t exactly have any agenda for today except to dive as deep as he could, maybe listen in on what the Shadows’ whispers had to say about the Phantom Thieves. He was curious what effect his words might’ve had, after all.

He dove deeper and deeper. His mask disappeared from his face as a disembodied hand dug into the side of one of the trains that rode through Mementos. He flew after it, descending into the depths before letting himself fall from it. He picked himself up and exhaled -- he stopped right in a waiting room. Shadows never came around here. It was sacred ground to them.

...except those were distinctly footsteps, and lots of ‘em. “...just a few more levels for today.” Akechi heard a slightly familiar voice say. He ducked down on the tracks and crawled up against the side of the platform, out of sight and out of mind. “We’ve changed Ono’s heart. The only thing we have left down here is to hit the end of the path.”

“To be frank, that fight was quite difficult.” That voice wasn’t familiar. It was very refined, but not quite snobbish. Like someone who honestly bought into themselves, instead of just pretendin’. “The ice and fire skills were quite painful for Panther and I especially.”

“I’m fine!” ‘Panther’ deflected. “Besides, Mona gave us a health boost. We could make it to the end.”

“Lady Ann’s right.” Akechi’s eyes widened. That...that was the cat! The talking cat from the TV station! “But you should watch out for everyone’s energy, Joker. Some of us are starting to get tired.”

“I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?” Loud, crude. Ryuji-han. “My best skills leave me tired, and Panther needs her energy for fire spells.”

“I’m not your walking medicine bag!” ‘Mona’ huffed. “Come on, tell him Joker!”

“He’s not the walking medicine bag, Skull.” A pause. “He’s the walking medicine cat.”

“You bully!” The cat cried.

“You make it too easy.” Joker chuckled. “Come on, we don’t have much farther to go. Skull, you take point. Fox, watch our back. Mona takes the right, I take the center. Panther, be ready to burn anything, anywhere.”

“You got it!” She said in a cheery voice.

“Let’s go.” The footsteps went from the thunk of shoes on concrete to the clank of soles on metal, before retreating further into the depths. Akechi waited a few minutes, before he climbed up onto the platform.

Mona was the cat who didn’t like being called a cat. Ryuji was the crude one, he’d recognize his voice easy enough. The cat let slip that Panther was Ann-han. Fox was...someone else, he couldn’t tell who. That left only one person for Joker. The person he recognized first.

“Not faith at all, was it?” He chirped, turning towards the ascending escalators. “But I don’t think now's the time to meet the great Phantom Thieves. I’ll see you around, Akira-chan!”

He sprinted up the stairs and back through the paths. There were Shadows everywhere, but he ignored them. He couldn’t risk the Thieves lapping him on the way back, after all. 

He wasn’t sure what to do about them, anyways. Loyalty would say to report to the boss, let him know the Phantom Thieves were doin’ the same thing he was. Or, almost. Loyalty might even say to take his knife and put it right into Joker’s back and take his bat to the rest of them. 

Loyalty, however, could go fuck itself.

His boss was Shido Masayoshi. Representative of the Diet, cabinet member, and head of the United Future Party to the public. To those in the know, he was the leader of a nameless faction of politicians, corporate CEOs, bureaucrats, hitmen, and yakuza. To the public, his goal was to modernize and strengthen Japan, to make it better, and to revitalize its independence.

Bullshit, all of it. He wanted money and power and glory, and that was all. He wanted to do whatever he wanted and kill whoever got in his way. And he could already. He’d been capable of it for years. But it didn’t mean anything to him without the shiny title to go with it.

Shido Masayoshi was his father who left him to rot. Masayoshi Shido was the man who orchestrated his death. Shido Masayoshi was the man who ordered the men who took his eye, took his mother, took his life away. Shido Masayoshi was the man he’d killed for, and then killed and killed and killed some more. Shido Masayoshi is the man who made him kill mothers and fathers and siblings, destroy families, rip companies apart at the seams.

Masayoshi Shido was the man who he would kill with his own two hands.

So, no. He was not going to tell Masayoshi Shido about the nice teenagers who would probably dismantle his operation one random supporter at a time. He’d let them take everything from him, then he’d kill him. Then he’d kill everyone who knew. Only then would it be over.

Only then would she be safe.

...Akechi felt tired. He dragged himself out of Mementos, then out of Shibuya and to Shinjuku. He made it home. He pulled his shoes off. He collapsed into bed. Another night without dinner. He’d eat something in the morning.

  
  


_ 13th June, 2016 _

He didn’t eat anything in the morning. After a series of nightmares he couldn’t remember, and didn’t want to, he just couldn’t bring himself to eat. So he walked around Kamurocho for a while. There was a karaoke bar a short walk away and the owner always let him in thanks to a...favor he did a while back. He went there and clapped along to a drunk woman nailing Brave Shine. He left without singing.

West Park had Purgatory, and the tournaments there were interesting, but he was too recognizable nowadays. He couldn’t just walk in and fight convicts and world champion athletes for nothing. ATLAS had the arcades, but he wasn’t in the mood. Debolah was supposed to be a nice club, but there was no way in hell they’d let him in--

He was eighteen now. Maybe he could now. Eh. He wasn’t really all that interested, anyways. He had class today, but a quick call would excuse the absence. He could go anywhere. The park, Destiny Land, Shibuya, Little Asia. He’d been to those places plenty of times before, though.

So he went to the slot car stadium.

He wasn’t sure what he expected. No, he did. He expected children, and cheap cars, and a young man running the show. Maybe concessions to make money on snacks. For the most part, he was right. But there were a few things that were off.

“Kazuma-kun races to the front! But Ikari’s is moving up and -- oh no! Ikari’s racer flies from the track! He is retired!” The Pocket Circuit Fighter watched the race intently, staring at the cars as they flew along the track. So much for cheap, those things were faster than he’d seen a toy go in his life.

And what was most unexpected was “Kazuma-kun.” He looked a year or two older than Akechi, and he was wearing a basic black suit with a partially unbuttoned dress shirt underneath. He was hunched over his controller, staring at his racer as it zoomed along the track. It flew across the line, and the man threw his hands into the air. 

“Our champion, once again, is Kazuma-kun!” The referee cheered. A small group of kids at the sidelines cheered with him. “Once again, the undefeated Kazuma-kun shows the resolve of Kamurocho’s Fastest!” The challengers looked disappointed, but not especially so. Guess they knew exactly what they were getting into.

But Kamurocho’s Fastest? That was definitely interesting. He stepped a little further into the lobby, and nearly stepped on a girl’s car. “Sorry, kid.” He apologized. She looked up at him and froze. “Ya good? It seems a little early for this stuff.”

She just kept staring, so he just shrugged and walked past him. She ran up around him and pointed very rudely at his face. “You’re the high school detective guy!” She shouted. “You were on the TV!”

“Oh, was I?” Akechi chuckled. “Ya got me there, kid. How the heck did you find that out?”

“You have an eyepatch!” She declared. “The only people with eyepatches are pirates and detectives.” 

“Ah, Kaoru! Found a new racer, huh?” Akechi looked up at the referee, a smiling man with a colorful headband and a racing suit. Looked like a fool with all the colors and shit. Akechi kinda liked it. “Welcome to Pocket Circuit Stadium! I’m the Pocket Circuit Fighter, and I help keep things running around here. Are you here to race?”

“Fighter-san, he’s the eyepatch detective!” Kaoru pointed at his eyepatch. “He has an eyepatch!”

“I ain’t so important. The name’s Goro.” Akechi said. “Somehow I never came round here. Figured I’d see what the hype was about.”

“It’s early.” Akechi turned around. Kazuma, the champion, was looking at him with a slight scowl on his face. It seemed out of place in a cheery stadium like this. “Most newcomers don’t drop in until the afternoon.”

Akechi grinned. “I just couldn’t wait to see what all the hype was about, Kazuma-kun!” The man’s frown seemed to deepen at that. Yeah, he wasn’t here to antagonize. He could always do that later, after all. “I’ve got insomnia. Woke up, decided to walk around, found my way here. Figured I’d give something new a shot.” He narrowed his eye. “That ain’t a problem, is it?”

Kazuma met his glare with his own. It was like staring down a bull; there was no deception or lies in his eyes, only the fire of a man who refused to balk at any obstacle. But the glare was gone as fast as it came, and Kazuma nodded. “No. There’ve been people who’ve come to harass the Fighter in the past. You seem to be legitimate.”

Kaoru tugged on Kazuma’s jacket. “Kazuma-kun, those were kids.”

“Still.”

The Fighter coughed. “A-anyways, Kazuma-kun, do you mind showing Goro-kun the ropes? There’s a lower rung tournament in twenty minutes. Maybe he’ll be able to race in it?”

“Sure.” Kazuma smiled. It was weird to see the frowny guy look happy. He seemed more the type to glare at everything, and express emotion through the intensity of his brow. “Goro-kun, follow me.”

“Sure, sure. But no need for any of the formalities, yeah? Goro’s fine.” Akechi followed Kazuma towards a tent at the side of the room. “I ain’t that big on pleasantries when I’m off.”

“I prefer to use them, Goro-kun.” Kazuma emphasized, before discarding the topic entirely. He passed Akechi a small car. “Here. Golem Tiger’s a popular one to start off with. Not too slow, but there’s room for improvement.”

“Aww, it’s some beginner sh- stuff?” Akechi groaned. “And seriously, cut it with the honorifics, before I start calling you somethin’ dumb.”

Kazuma ignored him, grabbing a metal rectangle from the table. “Some frames are better than others. This one’s streamlined for speed, but a little heavy. It could throw off the balance on turns. To counteract that,” he picked up a set of tires. “These are wider, and keep you on the track better. They don’t roll as fast, so be cautious of that.”

“Yo, Kaza-tan!” 

The older boy gave him an unimpressed look, before grabbing a battery and passing it to him. “Fit this into the back, between the axles.” He grabbed a controller as well. “Give it a spin real quick. Lever is for throttle. Button’s for boost. Be careful with that, or you can go flying off the track.”

“That ain’t gonna happen.” Akechi grumbled. “Gimme some of the good stuff! I wanna blow everyone outta the water with this.” Sure, they were mostly preteens and elementary schoolers, but ya didn’t just half ass something you put so much effort in!

“If you want better, you’ve gotta buy new parts at the tent.” Kazuma said. “They can run a little high in price, but it’s worth it for the utility it gives you.”

Akechi deflated. “I’ll see how this race turns out first. Man, this is more complicated than I thought it’d be!”

“Give it a shot.” Kazuma patted him on the shoulder, before nodding his head towards the tracks. “Tournament’s starting in a minute. Watch your speed on the turns, and you should be fine.”

“Fine? What kinda shit is that?” A kid cocked their head at Akechi, but he ignored them. They were gonna hear the words eventually, right? He grinned “I’m goin’ for the gold.”

They lined the cars up on the track. The Pocket Circuit Fighter stood at the edge of the track with the racers. “Now, for the first race of the day in the Novice League!” Akechi’s eye twitched.  _ Novice? _ “In the first lane, we have Akusa-kun with his Viper Tiger! This young man has been racing on the streets of Nagasaki for a long time, and this is his first major race in Kamurocho! Let’s give a big warm welcome to our new friend!”

The kids clapped, and Akusa rubbed the back of his neck. The kid couldn’t have been thirteen. 

“In the next lane, we have a first-time racer right off the streets of Kamurocho! Though his looks may be a little scary, he’s got a heart of gold and a determination to win! Welcome, Goro-kun!” The kids started clapping for him. He was being applauded for showing up by school kids. Why did he come here.

“Returning for the Novice League are Kazuki-kun, Mari-chan, and Yuki-chan!” The Pocket Circuit Fighter pointed to the three cars in the next lanes. They looked a little more slick than his and Akusa’s, with different tires and bumpers and other fancy shit. 

Whatever. He’d win without all that regardless. 

“Ready…” The Pocket Racer Fighter lifted a flag. Then he cut through the air. “Start!” The RC cars took off, neck to neck at the front as they approached the first turn. Akechi pulled back on the speed a little, and his car fell behind. Still, it was a good decision. One of the other cars flew off the side of the track, and the rest took the turn like a champ, leaving his car a good meter behind the rest. “And Kazuki-kun’s Desert Drifter is unable to complete the turn! Better luck next time, Kazuki-kun!” 

Akechi ignored the kid’s whining and took the car onto the next straightaway. He slowed down at the turn, but not as much as before. It cut some of the distance between him and the rest. “Akusa-kun’s Viper Tiger remains in the lead, followed closely by Mari-chan and Yuki-chan’s racers! But Goro-kun’s Millenium Racer is slowly closing the gap!”

The biggest obstacle lay ahead -- a series of hills that took off into the final turn of the course, wrapping back around to the starting line. Akechi kept up on the acceleration, and his car flew over the hills, landing within his lane at the opposite side nearly a car’s length behind the next in front. “And Goro-kun closes the gap! A few more laps like this, and we may have a new contender for Novice Champion!” He grinned. What the hell did a few new upgrades even do, anyways?

They wrapped around the turn and flew into the second of four laps. Akechi thumbed the boost button. If there was a time to use it...it was now. He pressed the button, and his car took off, leaving the others in the dust. “What’s this? Goro-kun activates his boost, taking the lead with speed! But the next turn is steep -- can he maintain control?!”

Akechi grinned. He had it! The competition hadn’t even crossed the starting line when he overtook them, and they sure as hell weren’t gonna catch up now! The next turn was all that stood between him and victory. He pulled back on the throttle, and the car slowed at the turn. It bounced against the edge. One tire lifted off the floor. It looked like he might yet make it. The others were still just at the halfway point of the straightaway from the starting line. 

His finger slipped.

The throttle flipped back to it’s neutral setting. The tire rolled up onto the side of the fence, caught traction, and pulled itself over. The back tires tumbled and bounced as the front hopped a fence. Akechi’s eye widened in horror. For a moment, his car, his underdog, with its cheap tires and its low capacity battery and its heavyset frame and its cheesy flame decals, flew. Then it came crashing down onto the ground outside the track. 

“Oh no!” The Pocket Racer Fighter’s voice sounded like it was underwater. “The underdog of this race has retired! Even so, our competitors drive on…” Akechi approached his fallen vehicle. He picked it up from where it sat on the floor, wheels still spinning endlessly against a road that no longer existed. 

The vehicle he’d staked all his hopes on was unmarred, untouched. Perhaps it was simply stronger than he was. The wheels of fate spun no matter what, yet the car continued to fight, undeterred, even when victory was snatched away by the very depths of foolishness.

“What did I do wrong?” He asked the world.

“You didn’t know your Pocket Racer.” A hand landed on his shoulder. Kazuma was looking at him with understanding, and an old pain in his eyes. “You failed to understand what it was capable of, what it could do. It’s a mistake every racer has made.” He gestured around the course. Some of the kids were looking his way with apologetic smiles, sympathetic eyes. “It’s truly the dark side of this sport.”

“Then why?” Akechi asked. “Why do you continue?”

Kazuma looked up. “Because the pride of building your own racer, raising it, modifying it. Taking it from this low place and raising it up. The satisfaction of seeing what you’ve made compete against the fruit of others’ labor is worth the pain of failing to understand what you have done.” He gestured at the car in his hand with its wheels still spinning. “It hasn’t given up. Will you?”

“Whoever said anything about givin’ up?” Akechi looked down at the Pocket Racer. Its corny decals, cheap tires, heavy frame. He smiled. “Maaaan, this thing is an eyesore! A real clunky piece of junk, ain’t it? Needs a hell of a lot of work put in!”

“That’s how they all begin.”

“Aight, then,  _ Kazuma _ ,” Akechi sang. “Where should I start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't have yakuza without pocket circuit!
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! This has been one of the most fun things to write in a while, and my first real committed dip into fanfiction in years. For now, expect fairly regular updates as I work through the backlog of finished chapters, and when I've exhausted those, it will slow down to weekly! Take care, everyone!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramen always tastes best with split knuckles

“Oi, Nishiki. You’re running late.” Kazuma wasn’t exactly subtle, and that extended to phone calls. He’d walked out of the building, and Akechi could still hear the guy talking over the phone. “...ramen sounds good. Meet me at the Pocket Circuit stadium.” A pause. “It’s fun. Yeah, see ya.”

It was noon. Somehow, Akechi had spent five hours working on that damn Pocket Racer. It was...better, he guessed. He hadn’t exactly come with the intent of spending a lotta cash, and some of that stuff really ran up a tab. But Hannya Cobra — he came up with it himself — was a hell of a lot faster now than it was when he dropped it on the track. And more balanced. And more stable in general. And with a better battery. Damn thing got an entire makeover.

The door to the stadium opened up again, and Akechi made damn sure that he looked focused on his phone when the guy walked back in. He definitely wasn’t the type to appreciate being eavesdropped on, if nothing else. “Goro-kun.”

“Drop the honorifics, will ya?” He grinned to take the edge off the words. “We’ve spent, what, twelve hours buildin’ me a car? If that ain’t enough to kill the formalities, I don’t know what is.”

“Still.” Kazuma shook his head. “It’s a matter of respect.”

“Man, you’re uptight!” Akechi exhaled slightly too loudly. “Ya wanna hit up one of those hostess clubs? Maybe one of those girls’ll get that stick out your ass.” Kazuma frowned, and Akechi threw his hands up in surrender. “Too far, huh? I’ll chill.”

“There are kids here.”

“I’ll say it to ya outside, then.” He pushed off the wall. “But damn, it’s already noon! Haven’t had a damn thing all day. Think I should get some Big Bang Burger? If ya beat the challenge, it’s free.”

“Do what you want.” Kazuma said noncommittal. Damn, that was cold. No invitation? He should feel insulted. “I’m curious, though.”

“Hmm?”

“You got here early. You’re still a student, yeah?” Akechi shrugged. “So you got up at five and skipped school for Pocket Circuit on a whim?”

“Eh. I couldn’t sleep, been around town enough times, and karaoke’s borin’ without someone to bug. Too miserable to have my first drink alone, too, and I’m underage.” He shrugged. “So, Pocket Circuit. It was this or bowling, anyways.”

Kazuma nodded. He leaned up against the wall on the opposite side of the door to Akechi. People came and went, though he noticed that they were steering clear of him. He smirked. The perfect scowl of Kamurocho’s Fastest was still friendlier than a missing eye.

The door opened, and a man with shoulder-length straight hair walked into the Stadium. He was wearing a deep red suit with a cheetah print shirt underneath. His features were sharp and calculating and he looked confident, but there was an easy smile on his face. What caught Akechi’s eye most, though, was the silver pin on the collar of the suit jacket with a single character printed in silver. The guy was a damn Dojima clan enforcer. 

“Nishiki.” Kazuma stepped off the wall. “Been hitting up the bars again?”

“Some of us are working, Kiryu.” Nishiki punched Kazuma in the shoulder. Kiryu, huh? The name fit the guy. “All that big talk the other day, scaring the shit out of everyone—”

“Language. There are children here.”

“Sorry. Scaring the  _ crap _ out of everyone at HQ, and what, you’re racing RC cars?” Nishiki chuckled. “You’re the only guy who could pull that if. Anyone else, and it’d all be over, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kiryu turned to Akechi. “Goro-kun, this is Nishiki. We grew up together.”

“Goro-kun?” Nishiki raised an eyebrow and swaggered up to Akechi. “What, are you another one of the racers Kiryu’s been hanging out with? He doesn’t talk about this shit much.”

“As of a few hours ago? Yeah.” Akechi stepped into the middle. He wouldn’t talk to one of Dojima’s boys with his back to the wall. “Your boy helped me out with building a car. He’s real good at it. Maybe you should give it a shot.”

“Not anytime soon.” Nishiki laughed. He turned to Kiryu. “Oi, Kiryu. You owe me a car, you know that?”

“Build it yourself.”

“Is that any way to treat a brother?” Nishiki shook his head. “Sorry about my bro. He’s a damn idiot with people. You eat yet, Goro-kun?”

“Just Goro.” Akechi said easily. “And nah. Woke up bored, decided to check this place out. Was just gonna grab a burger or somethin’ quick.”

“Yeah, I bet my bro was gonna let you starve before he gave you a damn invitation.” Nishiki threw an arm around Akechi’s shoulders. “Tell you what. How about we treat you to some ramen, maybe a round at the bar? I know a nice spot, just a few blocks from here.”

“Nishiki, what are you doing?” Kiryu asked.

Nishiki ignored him. “And in return, you can tell me all about how my bro loses at RC cars in his spare time.”

“What, lunch and a drink for a story?” Akechi raised an eyebrow. “I ain’t legal yet, man.”

“Then a round of karaoke.” Nishiki offered. “Trust me, you want to see this guy at karaoke.”

“Oi, Nishiki.”

“I’m just bein’ friendly!” The yakuza’s face softened a little. “So, what do ya say, Goro? Care to spend a day with a dumbass like him?”

“ _ Nishiki _ .”

Akechi paused. If he was seen in public with a yakuza, it’d be a scandal. It wasn’t the kind of attention he needed, and smartphones were everywhere. But to know someone in the Dojima family? Have an idea what was going on in the underground, besides the guys in flashy suits running around? He met the yakuza’s grin with his own. “Ya better not be talkin’ me into some cheap watery noodles.” He warned him. 

Nishiki clapped him on the shoulder. “Alright! Hey, Kiryu, you picking the joint? I know you’ve been to every damn restaurant in the district by now.”

“Kyushu on Pink’s good.” Kiryu offered. “Not too far, either.”

“Not too far?!” Nishiki groaned. “It’s halfway across the damn district!” 

Kiryu shrugged. “You picked the bar, didn’t ya?” Without waiting for a response, he walked out of the Stadium.

Nishiki shook his head. “Stubborn bastard. Still, he’s got good taste with food.” He started out. “Hurry up, he’ll be past the Tower before you know it.”

Akechi raised a finger. “Gimme a sec.” He turned towards the corner, pulling his eyepatch off and shoving it in his pocket. Then he pulled out a set of sunglasses and threw them on. It was nice to have a change in aesthetic, after all. “I’m ready.”

Nishiki stared at him, before he snorted. “Cautious. You’ve got something to hide?”

“I figured it’d be better if some random person recognized me and decided to snap a pic. Akechi strut past Nishiki. “There’s no way in hell you didn’t, after all.”

“Figured me out so quick?” Nishiki hummed. “I guess you don’t have that dumb nickname for nothing.”

“Oh, it’s for absolutely nothing.” Akechi winked. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t use my brain every once in a while.”

When they stepped outside, they could see Kiryu over half a block away. The man really didn’t wait up. They managed to catch up with him a few streets later. “You didn’t say to wait up,” he defended, when Nishiki told him to look back for once. Setting the disagreement aside, the two walked down Pink Street in the middle of the road, not caring much about the cars or other pedestrians. Akechi followed behind them, eyeing the crowds around them.

Most people would get a good look at Nishiki and get out of the way. A few would keep walking, but ultimately shied away when he got close. But he could see two ugly, flashy-dressed idiots just a little bit down who had no such reservations. Akechi slowed down his pace a little. He didn’t really want this kind of attention directly on him.

“What family you from?!” One of the men shouted, swaggering up to Kiryu. Akechi couldn’t see his face, but he could tell from the tension in Kiryu’s shoulders that that wasn’t the right thing to say. 

“I’m not yakuza.” Kiryu explained, before the man tried to shove him. He stood a little bit taller and tilted his head down. “Don’t.” He said, his voice almost too low for Akechi to hear.

“We got a tough guy, boys!” His buddy crowed. A few more gaudy men stepped out of two alleyways to the sides. What, were they just waiting for some shit to start? “Got some attitude for a civilian. Takin’ up the whole damn street! How about we teach them a—”

Kiryu’s fist cut him off. The man hit the ground and bounced, and Nishiki grabbed him by the collar. Yanking him back up, the Dojima grunt landed a solid blow to the man’s jaw, knocking him unconscious onto his back. He stood straight and raised his fists. “You think you’ve got enough boys?” He boasted.

“Get them!” 

Akechi stepped to the side and out of the street. He wanted to watch how this would go, after all. A man threw a punch at Kiryu’s head, and he swayed under it, landing a quick blow to the thug’s ribs. The man staggered back, and another came around him with a knife. He stabbed for the eyes, and Akechi had to hide his wince. But Kiryu swayed and let the blade slide past his face, grabbing the man’s wrist and kneeing his elbow. The man screamed and fell to his back. The knife clattered to the floor, useless.

Nishiki was handling his guys just as well. One of them threw a punch at Nishiki’s face, and he caught it on his forearm. Then he lunged, grabbing the man’s shoulder and kneeing him in the abdomen. The fourth thug swung a wide punch at Nishiki, but he pulled the man he was still grappling into the blow. The defeated thug fell to the floor. Nishiki kicked his remaining attacker in the side of the knee, then grabbed his hair with a hand. He threw the man’s head to the ground, careful to not get blood on his shoes. 

He didn’t get up.

A fifth thug threw a punch at Nishiki’s back, but Kiryu caught it in a vise grip. Nishiki ducked back, before exchanging a quick glance at his brother. Kiryu twisted the man’s arm out of the way, and both men’s fists struck the poor thug in the chest, knocking him flat on his back.

All in all, the fight was over in under twenty seconds. There was some blood on Kiryu’s knuckles, and a few dark splotches on his knee. For his part, Nishiki was clean. He knew that Nishiki couldn’t be a high ranking member, not when he looked like he was barely old enough to drink. But the two of them were expert fighters, even if their styles were still brutal and unrefined. 

The crowd slowly dispersed. The beaten yakuza writhed on the floor. Kiryu and Nishiki looked each other over, before Nishiki smirked. “You’ve got blood on your pants.” He said smugly. 

“I kneed him.” Kiryu said. “Besides, who knows how much blood you’ve got on that jacket.”

“I got it red for a reason.” Nishiki chuckled. “Let’s get some damn food already. I was hungry  _ before _ these guys tried to wack us for no reason.” 

“That got you hungry?” Kiryu jabbed, and Nishiki elbowed him in the side. “Yeah. Let’s head in.”

The two walked into the bar. Akechi stood outside for a minute, watching the yakuza limp off before he made himself a target. “Dammit…” one of them muttered. “Damn excommunicated piece of shit got the drop on us.” Akechi perked up. The men were all wearing matching pins — he focused on what they displayed.  _ Sagawa. _ Not a family in Tokyo. He’d have to do some research. 

With the coast clear, he stepped into the restaurant. The smell of salt and beef hit him as he stepped in the door, and he took a good deep breath. Nishiki and Kiryu sat at a table at the back facing the entrance. Akechi made his way there, taking the seat farthest from the two. They’d probably be most at comfort if he was facing away from the door, anyways.

“Finally joining us, Goro?” Nishiki leaned forward on the table. “I figured you were gonna gawk at those guys for a few more hours.”

“Nah. Didn’t wanna be seen walking in with the guys with bloody knuckles and soiled dress pants, is all.” Akechi tapped his foot against the ground. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold, after all.”

“Wait, you do?” Kiryu frowned. “What, are you—”

“He ain’t yakuza.” Nishiki scoffed. “Man, you ever turn on the news? Or open social media? You’ve seriously never seen this kids mug before?”

“I’ve got better things to do.” Kiryu said. “Besides, Kazama doesn’t watch the news.”

“Kazama gets the news from the guys who write the news. He’s got informants. He doesn’t need to watch the news.” Nishiki shook his head. “Guys like us need to watch the news so we have a damn idea what’s going on, and don’t get blindsided by Tojo business no one bothered to tell us.”

Kazama would be...the head of the Kazama family. A renowned hitman. One of the few yakuza smart enough to be working with Shido as equals. Akechi clenched his fist beneath the table.

Kiryu didn’t argue any further. “So...you’re a celebrity, Goro?”

“I’m known.” Akechi hummed. “I work with the police as a freelancer. I’ve got some...celebrity. A few fans, too. It’s why I dropped the eyepatch. Makes me half as recognizable when I’m not wearin’ it.”

“Detective…” Kiryu frowned. He frowned a lot, Akechi noticed. “Alright. That doesn’t mean you’re not Goro-kun the Pocket Racer, though.”

“It does mean you can—” Akechi cut himself off. “Fuck it, you’re not listenin’ to that shit anyways. Got a recommendation?”

“We ordered you the house special.” Nishiki piped up. “It’s the best damn thing in the bar, you know.”

“I don’t.” Akechi shrugged. “So, heard the thugs talkin’ outside. Called ya somethin’ strange, Kiryu-chan. Ya got kicked to the curb by the family?”

The air froze. “Don’t disrespect a man at a meal he invited you to.” Nishiki said quietly. His tone was scalding.

“I ain’t disrespectin’ you.” Akechi said nonchalantly. “I’m just curious, is all. Callin’ a guy an excommunicated piece of shit’s some heavy language! I gotta know if we’ll be leavin’ this place and the street trash won’t be packin’ heat!”

Kiryu narrowed his eyes. “There’s been a disagreement. I didn’t see eye to eye with one of the guys calling the shots, so I stepped out. With the way I left...I guess that’s exactly what I am.”

“Disagreement?” Akechi whistled. “That’s some high profile shit. Guess you’re lucky ya got outta there, then. So what, you lookin’ for employment now?”

“I’m going to make things right.”

“Kiryu!” Nishiki hissed. “You talk like that in public, you’re gonna get killed.”

Kiryu didn’t so much as flinch. “If I fail, I’m dead already. What’s a few more words between friends?” 

Nishiki glared. He opened his mouth to say something, but the waiter came with their bowls. By the time the food was served, he looked a little calmer. “He served a year of his oath before he severed it. He fucks this up, they’re not just gonna let him walk away. Damn bastard has an out, but he refuses to take it.”

“I won’t let them peg this on Kazama.” Kiryu said quietly. “They’re gonna throw him under the bus, and we’re supposed to watch on the sidelines. But I won’t just stand by and do nothing.”

Akechi raised a hand. “I feel like I’m missin’ some context. Anything you need to fill me in on?”

Kiryu blinked. “No. It’s better for you not to get involved.”

“Suit yourself.” Akechi dug into his food. The two brothers talked in hushed tones, and he let them. After all, if he wanted to uncover the truth, he could damn well do it himself. He had to admit, though, the ramen was damn good. Kiryu could pick a restaurant.

Nishiki picked up his nearly-empty bowl and took a long sip, before placing it back on the table with a sigh. “I’ll admit. It’s worth the walk.”

“Were you going to tell me if it wasn’t?” Kiryu asked.

“Damn straight.” Nishiki looked at Kiryu. “If you’d fucked up, I’d be the first to say it.”

“Big words,” He replied. “Serena?”

“It’s that, or get you a respectable suit for once.” Nishiki made a dismissive gesture before looking at Akechi. “You still tagging along, detective? Or is it too much to hang with the big, bad yakuza?”

“What, you?” Akechi snorted. “Besides, I’ve still gotta hear the big guy belt some stuff out. I doubt he’s got anythin’ on me, though.”

“You gonna take that, Kiryu?” 

Kiryu almost smiled. “We’ll head in the back. Figure your reputation could use a break for the day.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Akechi waved them off. “Just worry about your song. I ain’t takin’ some half assed shit from you two.”

  
  
  


Akechi watched the sun set in Shibuya. It wasn’t anything pretty that night. The buildings blocked off most of it, and there were clouds in the sky. Still, it was a nice moment of relaxation.

He lifted his phone up. The Metaverse Navigator’s eye icon glared at him from the home screen. He opened the app, and the search history showed up. He didn’t need to navigate today, though. He just needed to be sure of something.

“Kazama Shintaro.”

_ Match not found. _

He grit his teeth. It was good, he supposed. His new friends’ stepfather was clean as a yakuza got. He didn’t have to worry about them coming after him, if nothing else.

He clenched a fist. His gloves strained under the tension.

Kazama was a hitman. A powerful member of the Tojo Clan and head of the Kazama family, the most influential yakuza family under Dojima. Well known, respected, and most of all,  _ subtle. _ It would’ve been unfortunate, but it would have made sense. 

Kazama Shintaro was not Shido’s Cleaner, and Akechi was back to square one.

There wasn’t much that he knew about the hitman. He only knew about The Cleaner from the security system in Shido’s Palace. He was influential, which granted him the ability to take hits on damn near anyone. He was clever, which granted him the secrecy to work under Shido and still be practically unknown. And he could operate all around Japan, which required both subtlety and connections.

Akechi didn’t know much about Kazama. What he did know came from hearsay, rumors, and the narrative that surrounded the birth of the Millenium Tower, the largest building in Kamurocho. From what he knew, Kazama worked alongside the owner of the Empty Lot and a nearly unknown yakuza enforcer named Masaru Sera to secure the lot away from Dojima. Then, Sera used the construction of the tower to become the Third Chairman of the Tojo Clan.

Kazama was supposed to be smart, connected to the top, well respected, and ruthless. But if he didn’t have a Shadow, then that meant that his desires were in line with reality. Since he didn’t have a Shadow, he probably wasn’t The Cleaner. And since he didn’t have a Shadow, he could not even interrogate the damn guy without moving on him in real life.

Akechi shook his head. He didn’t need to deal with this right now. He just wanted to decompress for a little bit, rest his vocal chords, and enjoy a nice game of...something. He wasn’t sure what yet. But the train to Kichijoji was a long enough ride for him to think of something.

He got off the stop and wandered around the promenade for a few minutes. Not like there was much to do, there, anyways, but he liked the district at night. The bars and restaurants were always pretty active. After a while, he found himself outside of his favorite venue.

He didn’t know the name. He didn’t really care about it, either. What he did care about was the darts and billiards setups they had inside the place. It was damn near perfect for relaxing after a long day of relaxing. He deserved a vacation every once in a while, didn’t he?

He walked in, paid for some time at the dartboard, and took his shot. Bullseye, bullseye, bullseye, triple 20, triple 20, bullseye. He grinned. He was damn good at this one. Three hundred twenty points in five throws. It didn’t get much better than that.

His phone buzzed. He pulled it out. Blocked number,  _ Akihiko Toshinora, Maintenance Crew, Millennium Tower.  _ His grin froze on his face. Breaktime was over. He returned his darts and walked out of the building. It was….seven. He’d be done with the hit around one in the morning. Then he’d be back to his actual work again, alongside catching up on homework.

A group of students walked into the bar as he left. They looked familiar, but he didn’t care to take a good look right now. He had his role to perform. There was no rest for the wicked, after all.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oi, Nishiki


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that yakuza business ain't just pocket racer and karaoke

_ 17th June, 2016 _

“The investigation into Amamiya’s death only got this far because of your swift investigation. Once again, your intuition is a critical piece in closing a case so swiftly.” The police chief laid a hand on Akechi’s shoulder. “You did well, son.”

“Thank you, sir.” He lied through a polite smile.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re gunning for a position here.” The chief’s eye gleamed. “But a kid with an eye like that? You’re not looking at me. You’re looking at the top.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

“Very well.” The chief chuckled. “But wherever you end up, don’t forget the little guys who helped you get there. I anticipate being here a long time, after all, and you can always use some allies with their ears to the ground.”

“Your kindness is appreciated, sir.” Akechi gave a short bow. The chief was an old fashioned man. Slang wouldn’t get him anywhere here. “If it is not overreaching my boundaries, may I ask what will be happening with the company he worked for?”

The chief sat down at his desk. “Their mistreatment of their employees will be brought to the attention of the courts. Prosecutor Nijima-san requested the case herself. According to her, it could be possible to sink the business and spare the drivers. Your evidence is instrumental in building that angle.”

“I see.” Akechi nodded. “I’m glad that the operation is in as trustworthy hands as those of Nijima-han. If you see her before I do, please send her my regards.”

“Of course.” The chief cleared his throat. “I won’t waste your time any longer. You’re free to go as you must.” He put a hand on his desk, and Akechi refused to let his eyes wander to the stub that was once his pinkie. The chief was honorable, yes. But that didn’t mean that his hands were clean.

“Of course, sir.” Akechi gave another short bow. He knew the way to the exit well. He also knew that if Sae-han was in the building, she would be in the interrogation rooms or evidence lockers by the elevator. He took the stairs and left quickly.

He didn’t want to avoid her. But Sae-han was always able to read him better than anyone else in a room. The Chief thought he could, but even he had his biases. Give him a nice, polite, yes-man act and he would happily buy anything he was told. Add on the favors he owed to Shido’s conspiracy for opening a path for an ex-yakuza like him into the police force, and the nice image the Chief cultivated went right down the damn drain.

Impressionable, stubborn, and with a mountain of blackmail on his back. There was no way that the Chief could be anything but a convenient pawn for the conspiracy. Akechi almost pitied the guy, until he remembered the case of money brought into the office when the investigators started sniffing around Shibuya for cocaine.

Sae-han, though. He whistled. She had a nose like a damn bloodhound. She could smell the fear on a defendant, a subpoenaed businessman, a prisoner waiting on trial. She could put away a bastard that nobody else could touch, because she had the guts to hit ‘em where it hurt. Akechi was more than happy to hand her a bat and direct her at Shido’s replaceables. He could take the backswing well enough.

But today? He didn’t need her sniffin’ out the damn fear. It was the most dangerous day in the last two weeks.

The Cleaner was still evading him. Shido dropped ten damn cases on his ass, all yakuza type, and he’d only “slept” four hours in the past two days. And the Dojima grunts around town were getting antsy as hell. Two of them even tried to stick him up, right outside his place.

Screw the rules, screw the press, screw the Yakuza need for secrecy. He needed to know what the hell was going on.

  
  


“Akechi?” Nishiki picked up after all. He sounded strained and out of breath. “You skipping school again?! Now’s not a good time—”

“I want in.”

A pause. “What?”

“I want in.” Akechi repeated. “Whatever the hell’s goin’ on with you and Kiryu. This Dojima family bullshit. I want in.”

“No.” Nishiki laughed bitterly. “You fucking stupid? This is yakuza shit. It stays in the goddamn family, we don’t get civilians involved. You stay alive and find some old lady’s purse or whatever the fuck you do all day, and stay out of our way.”

“Too late for that.” A hand reached for Akechi’s shoe, and he kicked it away. “The Dojima boys have been gettin’ a little handsy lately. One of ‘em ran up on me on the way home, tried to beat me for not bein’ good ol’ Kiryu-chan, so I had him eat dirt. His buddies ran up, so I let ‘em have it. Stomped one of their hands, asked what the fuck was happenin’.” Akechi whistled. “He sure had a lot to say!”

“Tch.” Nishiki went quiet again. “Serena. Meet me there. I’ll explain what’s goin’ on there. Don’t be followed.” The phone went quiet. Akechi let it drop down to his side. He started to step out of the alley.

He heard scuffling behind him, and swayed to the side. A tanto knife cut through the air where he’d just stood. Sloppy, undisciplined. He grabbed the man’s wrist, and twisted, sending him back to his knees. A palm to the head knocked it back against the wall, and a final kick had him down for the count.

“Fuckin’ street trash.” Akechi growled, kicking past a leg as he weaved his way between the half dozen bleeding yakuza in the alleyway behind his house. He didn’t even have to leave his backyard to find ‘em.

Serena wasn’t far from his place. He made it there pretty damn fast. The back alley wasn’t empty. It was actually filled with a bunch of unconscious yakuza. Huh. That was what...thirty guys? Not bad at all. He walked up the fire escape and stepped into Serena. Reina, the bartender, was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Nishiki.

“Oi.” Kiryu sat at the booth in the back, bandages over his bloody knuckles. He had a new suit, now. White pinstripes, and a golden dress shirt with chain designs. There was blood on his elbows and his pants. “Akechi-san.”

“Kiryu.” Akechi nodded. “You look a little beat. Run into a little trouble out back?”

“And elsewhere.” Kiryu exhaled. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“I’m here now, ain’t I?” He grinned too wide. “Someone’s goin’ after you. Dojima?”

“This ain’t about me. And it isn’t Dojima. He expelled me himself.” Kiryu scowled. “I don’t see a reason for him to try this. Old man’s been on the decline for the better part of a decade now, anyways. He couldn’t make a move like this.”

“A lieutenant or captain, then. You mentioned a Kazama the other day, didn’t you?” Kiryu’s glare tightened, and Akechi put a hand up. “Just coverin’ the bases! Who else we got?” 

Kiryu hesitated. 

“Ya know I can just check in the databases, yeah?” Akechi raised an eyebrow. “Or ask about informant. This shit ain’t hard to learn. It’s just impossible to peg the fuckin’ crimes on ‘em. You ain’t givin’ up shit.”

The ex-yakuza relaxed. “Three lieutenants. Awano, Shibusawa, and Kuze. Count Awano out, he has no stake in this. He’s retiring in a few months, if the rumors are reliable.”

Akechi nodded. “Awa-no. Got it.”

“Next up is Shibusawa Keiji.” Kiryu ignored him. “Smart as hell, cunning. He wanted the Captain’s chair, before Kazama blocked him from it. He’s subtle enough for this, has the motivation.”

“And the last guy?”

“Kuze Daisuke. Hates my guts. Left his pinkie behind because of me, and he wants payback.” Kiryu scowled. “He's probably with Shibusawa. The two’re workin’ together. Kuze wants me dead, and Shibusawa wants the Captain’s seat. Kazama’s out of town, so he can’t help. It’s just me and Nishiki.”

“Alright.” Akechi nodded twice. “And why?”

Kiryu stared.

Akechi ran a hand down his face. “Look, I can’t damn well help ya if you can't even tell me what they want ya dead for! What, did you screw one of their girls?”

“No.”

“Fuck with their money, their territory?”

“No.”

“Alright then.” Akechi paused. “Killed a civilian?” Kiryu glared. “Not that, then. Can’t think of much else, though. You yakuza types are usually pretty damn straightforward.”

“...I declared war.”

“You  _ what?!” _

Kiryu stood up. “Shibusawa’s making a move on Kazama, and Tojo Clan Third Chairman Sera. He’s trying to break their image, so he could take their place. And he doesn’t care that he may well splinter the clan with this.”

“What, some lieutenant’s got dirt on a fuckin’ clan leader?” Akechi scoffed. “He’s boned from the beginning. Why are you involved?”

“No one knows.” Kiryu said. “Just me, Nishiki, and Kashiwagi. It’s big money involved. The Chairman got his position by securing the construction of the Millennium Tower, and Shibusawa has an ace that could break that. Or he thinks he does.”

“It’ll miss.” Akechi shot back. “You’re a damn softie, Kiryu-chan. He ain’t gonna touch your boys.”

“He might hurt someone else.” Kiryu said quietly. “A civilian. So I have to stop him.”

“...one question.” Akechi leaned in. “Shibusawa. He’s the ruthless type, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“He got hitmen?”

Kiryu nodded.

Akechi whistled. “Damn. We should get goin’ then. Gotta take him down before his boys get us.”

“Nishiki’s got the car.” Kiryu replied. “But you’re not coming with us.”

“Huh?!” Akechi snarled. “The fuck is that? Ya think I came up here for a beer and another round of karaoke?”

“People are gonna die.” Kiryu reasoned. “I didn’t even want Nishiki involved. He forced his way in.”

“I can handle myself well enough.” Akechi’s hand thumbed where his tanto knife would be in the Metaverse. “I might just surprise you.”

“If we die, it’s over.” Kiryu stood. He lumbered over to Akechi. “Me and Nishiki take this all down. But not now. You know. We die, you can still do something.”

“I can do something now, too.” Akechi grinned murderously. “I ain’t waiting on your beck and call,  _ Kiryu. _ Who says I don’t walk to his headquarters now, beat up his guys, and let the mess play out?”

Kiryu’s eyes softened. “You do.”

_ “Don’t test me.” _ Akechi warned.

“You’re not yakuza. You’re a civilian. You’re in a different world from us.” Bullshit. He was harder than this tough thug, any day. “You’ve for your strengths. I’ve got mine. You’ve got allies, I don’t.” Kiryu shoved past Akechi. “You don’t have to handle this the way I am. So do it your way.”

The back door to Serena swung open. Akechi watched as his ally walked out. It was bright outside. Brighter than in Serena. 

Do shit your way. Don’t be a yakuza. What a load of bullshit. He was a hitman, he was more yakuza than the yakuza he walked by. This shit was carved into his soul.

But he wasn’t completely wrong. Akechi pulled his phone out. He opened the nav. “Shibusawa Keiji,” he said.

_ Match found. _

  
  


_ The Millennium Tower was a monument to failure. The failure of the Dojima Family to cement itself as the top of the Tojo Clan. The failure of the Shimano Clan to rise to the top. The failure of an entire generation of yakuza, thrown away for the sake of a single man’s ideals. _

_ The Third Chairman did not allow public grudges to affect his policy, as Dojima would have. Chairman Sera opened offices in the Millennium Tower, the foundation his authority rested on, to the top earners of Tokyo. Dojima had an office. Kazama had an office. Shimano had an office. _

_ And so did Shibusawa. A measly office, on the land meant to cement his name in history. And so he raged. _

_ Keyword: Millennium Tower _

  
  


_ Shibusawa was smart, and he was ruthless. He did not tolerate failure. Nishitani learned that, when he failed to capture even a single baby. Oda learned that, when he failed to turn over his ally. They were necessary sacrifices to build his name on. _

_ So he killed. And killed. And killed. First it was to define his territory. Then it was to keep his own men in line. Then it was to gain respect from the higher ups, the Tojo brass. It became part of his formula, after a while. A necessary part of his operations. _

_ So when Tachibana handed the Empty Lot over to the Nikkyo Consortium, it wasn’t hard. It wasn’t even inconvenient. The man died in pain, and it was as simple as that. _

_ Years went by, and eventually he came across the paper, the deed to the empty lot. It was not in Tachibana’s name. The name on the page was that of a little girl. _

_ A pity she was already dead. The case was closed years ago. She went missing, then was found in the river with her head caved in and her body partially burned. Another orphan boy was found nearby in similar straits. _

_ Except, the coroner was a Chinese man who retired long before he found this report. A Chinese man linked to Korean gangs and the Triads, who had a reputation for making true disappearances possible. A Chinese man who his men could not find.  _

_ They said a man in the Little Asia of Sotenbori protected scared little girls. Beat up their abusers, because his own was gone. Except now he had a little girl of his own again. _

_ Shibusawa would pay them a little visit. Then he’d tear Sera from his throne, Kazama from his renown. He would cement his legacy as the Dragon of Dojima, and the world would watch. _

_ The Millennium Tower would serve as his— _

“Coliseum.”

_ Beginning navigation. _

  
  


Kamurocho’s neon lights felt strange in the Metaverse. It was like they had more of a presence than they usually did. They cut through the darkness and extended for what felt like miles, turning a dark sky into a cacophony of color. It felt like the  _ idea _ of what Kamurocho should be. Hell, it probably was. It was a world of cognition, after all.

Akechi looked down at his clothes. Still just his beige detective’s outfit. He was probably too far to really be considered a threat. You couldn’t just rebel against a Palace Ruler by yourself, after all. Ya had to actually make yourself a threat first. 

He walked up Tenkaichi Street. “People” walked up around him, or down, or into the shops and restaurants and bars along the sides. It was damn in depth. And the man saw them all as people, too. Kaneshiro in Shibuya saw people as ATMs. Shido saw people as masked patrons, hiding in his shadow and basking in his glory. These were just normal, everyday people, enjoyin’ a night on the town.

It didn’t matter much. It didn’t matter if the man saw people as damn cobblestones. The nature of a target didn’t change what he planned to do. Akechi continued north, until the street opened up into a massive plaza leading up to the perversion of the Millennium Tower.

In the real world, the tower was enormous. An entire neighborhood was torn down in its construction, and it took advantage of that space. The glass and steel frame reached for the heavens, towering over every single structure in Kamurocho like nothing the district ever had before. 

Somehow, it didn’t hold a candle to what replaced it.

The Coliseum was built entirely from marble. Massive columns as thick as dumpsters lined the outside, supporting a massive stone floor above it. Then more columns, and another layer, higher and higher until it reached the heights of the monolith it replaced. It was wider, stretching out into the streets around it, and the buildings that were there in reality gave way for sprawling parade grounds.

Before the entrance, a statue as tall as the building itself cut through the crowds gathered outside, waiting for whatever bloodsport Shibusawa imagined. It was a man, shirtless, holding a gun in one hand and a katana in the other. His face was cold and calculating, judging everyone who stood beneath him. Coiled around him was a colorful dragon, it’s head leering at those who approached from behind with painted eyes and a heavenly snarl.

Akechi walked between the legs of the colossus. It felt warmer, as if the statue was alive, just waiting to break free from its stone shell. For all he knew, it was. It didn’t matter. He just needed to find Shibusawa’s Shadow and put him down for good.

He followed the crowd into the foyer. A massive carpet covered what was definitely a stone floor. Ticket booths lined the walls, though he sure as hell wasn’t gonna buy his way in. Shadows lined the entrance in pairs. They were massive suited men with dragon masks, brandishing knives and guns. He scoffed. Even with all this damn formality, he still couldn’t afford better than off brand thugs.

Akechi skipped the ticket booths and approached the guards. “Yo, I’m broke.” He explained. “Can’t afford the nice seats. Any way you could slip me in?”

The first guard nodded. “The elevators to the paupers’ seats are at the back of the room, between the bathrooms. They are open to anyone who desires to witness the Dragon’s Glory.”

“The dragon, huh?” Akechi scoffed. “Alright, then. I’ll be on my way.” He walked through the lobby. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. There were paintings all over, just as flashy as the rest of everything. There was classical Western paintings, traditional Japanese style woodblock paintings, modern cubist art, impressionist shit. All of them had a dragon, or the same old guy standing guard outside.

The opulence fell as he got closer to the elevators, though. The paintings grew scarce. The chandeliers were replaced with candles on the walls. The carpet became soaked in fluids and torn, until it finally cut away into straight stone. The elevators themselves were at the end of the hall. They were massive freight elevators, the kind buildings had to move product and furniture from the basement to the upper floors. He stepped in and pulled the doors shut. It started with a shudder, and then he was moving.

It took damn near half an hour to reach the top. By the time the elevator stopped movin’, Akechi was ready to just climb up the elevator shaft himself. It’d be a whole lot more productive than just sittin’ there. The doors opened and he was met with the roar of the wind. “Paupers’ ‘seats,’ my ass.” He muttered.

There was no seating. There was just a slope to the ground that you could sit on to look down at the coliseum and the city below. There was a two foot railing on the Coliseum side, and a one foot railing on the city side. The width of the area was maybe five meters, and it was completely empty. They were high enough that he couldn’t even see the people on the next landing, much less the damn Coliseum floor.

“Useless, then.” Akechi muttered. He looked back at the elevator. “Guess we’ll be doin’ things the hard way, huh?” He closed the elevator doors, then held down the button. It slid down at a crawl, creaking and shuddering as it moved. 

He forced open the safety doors. The inner workings of the shaft were exposed. Pipes everywhere, wires everywhere. The cable holding the car lowered at a crawl. There was no maintenance ladder. “Oh, it’s the hard way alright.” Suddenly, he was very grateful that he wore gloves.

He jumped, grabbing onto the cable and hooking a foot around it. Then he hung on as the elevator continued its trip to the bottom very, very slowly. He yawned. A yakuza’s Palace, and it was seriously this boring? He was  _ not _ going to take the slow lane back to the bottom. He needed to speed this shit up.

The air ducts led into the elevator shaft, so Akechi took advantage of ‘em and swung his way out of the most boring ride he’d ever experienced. It led out into a hallway filled with people wearing nice clothes and suits. He slipped into the crowd, hoping there wasn’t any dust or grease or anything to tip off the Shadows yet. 

“Did you hear about today’s duel?” A woman asked the person next to you. “I hear that the Dragon is finally going up against the usurper!”

“Oh, the Dragon is fighting today? I know who I’m betting on.” A man a little further down chuckled.

“It’s...the Osakan, correct?” A woman frowned. “I remember hearing  _ something _ about Osaka on the schedule. Perhaps I misheard?”

Osaka. The name of the province set his nerves on fire. What the hell did this bastard want in Omi territory? He grit his teeth. Either he was about to get himself killed, or he had allies there. Or he was slippery enough to act without worrying about the Alliance at all.

Maybe he found his man.

“Security check.” A pair of Shadows stopped the crowd a few meters up. “A pauper’s forgotten his place. Show your ticket when my partner walks by.”

Damn. Akechi’s hand groped for his missing tanto knife. He wouldn’t be able to do shit until the Palace Ruler saw him as a threat. Maybe now would be a good time. The Shadow waded into the crowd, and a group of pompous elites raised their invitations like IDs. He parsed through what was legit at a glance before moving on. 

Akechi slithered through the crowd, keeping a little lower than the heads of the people around him. He had to stoop, at his height, but he got behind the Shadow easily enough. The other was looking away, reporting something on the radio. They were both wide open.

Akechi’s arm snaked around the Shadow’s neck. His other hand grabbed onto the hair at the top of its head and twisted. The neck snapped quietly, and it faded into nothing. He held his breath. No smaller Shadows appeared. He exhaled. They were weak, here. He could kill ‘em with his bare hands.

“Intruder!” Akechi whirled around, and the other Shadow was looking right at him, a hand on its radio. He bared his teeth, and the Shadow backpedaled, for all the good it did him. Akechi shrieked with laughter, ducking beneath a panicked punch and swinging his elbow into the Shadow’s chest. It doubled over, and he smashed his heel into its mask. It cracked and fell backwards, pulsing awkwardly.

But Akechi kicked its legs out from beneath it, then smashed a knee into its sternum. It cracked like an egg, and the Shadow shuddered and gasped before it faded back to wherever the hell it came from. The cognitions around him were gone by now. All that was left was the blaring radio on the ground. “Control Room to VIP, your status?” Silence. Akechi picked up the radio. “I repeat, Control Room to VIP, report!”

“They’re gone.” 

“...Who the hell are you?!” Control sounded a lot less in control, now. “You bastard!”

“You’ve got some nice rooms up here. Is that velvet?” Akechi’s hand brushed a curtain. “It’d be a damn shame if someone were to make a mess of things up here, yeah? This artwork looks real damn expensive!”

“You’re dead, you here me?!” Control roared.

Akechi cackled. “Send your best! Actually, nah. Send your damn boss. He’s the dragon, yeah? I’ve been feelin’ like a koi lately. Maybe we’ll have a new dragon in the house tonight.”

“You don’t get it, do ya?” He could hear the sneer in Control’s voice. “The boss ain’t got time to deal with you. Today’s his big match, and the world’s gonna see exactly who he is. So you’re gonna die before he even knows you existed.”

Akechi paused. That wouldn’t do. “Ya really gonna leave me up here with all these VIPs, unchecked? There’s no tellin’ what’ll happen. And if you’re the man responsible…” Akechi chuckled. “It’s on  _ your _ head, ain’t it?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Control’s voice crackled back over the radio. “This doesn’t reach the top. Whatever you do, I’ll figure it out. I ain’t using my little finger anyways.”

A Shadow with resolve.  _ Great. _ “Then I’ll be takin’ it myself.” Akechi hissed, before smashing the radio against the wall. “Maaaaan, these criminal types really do get the best security.” He whined. “I should’ve brought my damn bat.”

He searched the VIP lounge. On one of the tables, a rough map of the Coliseum’s upper chambers sat next to a spilled glass of wine. The security checkpoint was further down the hall, nearly on the opposite side of the Coliseum. He grinned. There’d definitely be some Shadows to snuff out on the way there, blow off some steam. It was starting to feel like a real infiltration now!

He ran through the halls. And that was the thing, when he was infiltrating like he meant it. He never stopped running. The most important part of an infiltration like this was keeping up the momentum, keeping the Shadows off balance, killin’ em all before they can even attempt to sound the alarm. It worked better with a knife, but that didn’t make it any less effective. Just less...clean.

He kicked the legs out from under a Shadow that was unlucky enough to be facing away from him, then grabbed a wood carved painting off the wall. He slammed the thin edge on the Shadow’s neck, then stomped on its face until it disappeared. Far, far less clean.

Another Shadow rounded the corner, and he broke into a sprint at it. It’s torso pulsed, and then it melted into the form of a demoness with a serpent wrapped around her shoulders. Akechi grabbed a heavy vase off of a small table as he ran by it and tossed it at the demoness. She threw her hands up, and it shattered against her arms. 

The table, however, broke her guard wide open, and he kicked up. The Shadow staggered back, and he grabbed a shard of porcelain from the floor. He flicked it out at the Shadow, and it ducked backwards. The snake hissed, and Akechi barely ducked out of the way to avoid an icicle from impaling him from above. He twisted and kicked, knocking the demoness onto her side. A lunge and a stab was all it took to neutralize her.

He shot up and kept running. Another Shadow tried to stop him, but a slash of the shard sent it to the ground. The next one stumbled on its feet trying to get out of the damn way. His smile grew wider.  _ This _ was what he fuckin’ liked! Who needed a damn Persona, anyways?!

Security was at the end of the hall. It had a glass door, glass windows, both of them locked, and a Shadow looking at a series of monitors inside. A normal person would slide to a stop, mentally prepare, and then make decisive action. Akechi just ran harder. He lowered his shoulder, tightened his grip on the vase fragment, and braced himself.

Everything happened in a blur. The door shattered. The Shadow turned with a wide eyed expression. Akechi thrust the porcelain shard at the Shadow’s throat. The Shadow ducked around the blow, grabbing Akechi’s hand. Akechi swung a foot around and behind him, and the Shadow jumped back, pulsing. Akechi threw the shard, and it embedded itself in the Shadow’s arm before it twisted into its new form.

It was massive, taking up most of the cramped room. It’s body was muscular as all hell, built like a cross between a bodybuilder and a strongman. It had a breastplate, pants, a cape, and a heavy warhammer, and it glared out from underneath a massive helm. It flexed its shoulder, and the porcelain shattered.

Akechi let his hands drop to his sides. No use puttin’ up a guard against this thing. He really should’ve brought that goddamn bat.

It swung its hammer down at him, and Akechi ducked to the side, sliding against the monitors. The Shadow growled and swung again, this time horizontally. Akechi ducked, and it shattered the stone of the wall behind him. A length of pipe was flung free from the stone, twisted into an odd shape but still most definitely a pipe. Akechi rolled, grabbed it, and danced back out as the Shadow stomped the floor.

He swung the pipe around and it bit deep into the Shadow’s leg. It roared, backhanded him, and then swung its hammer just a little too slow to catch him. Akechi hit the ground and was on his feet just in time to avoid a massive fist. He sprinted out of the room, and the Shadow followed him.

Good. He wasn’t letting this guy win. 

The Shadow raised its hammer and lightning blasted out into the hall. Akechi ducked behind a pillar and the arcing energy flew around him. He looked around at the decorations. Painting, painting, wood print, cheap katana, staff. He grabbed the staff, charging the Shadow. It swung, and missed. Predictable, really. Akechi taught it a lesson by swinging the staff up into the beast’s helm, before smacking it back down into its knee. It fell, and Akechi swung the staff around his body and across the Shadow’s face.

It swung out with the hammer and Akechi vaulted with the staff. It splintered below him, leaving him with a shorter, sharper length of pole. He fell behind the Shadow and stabbed the pole into the back of its knee. It roared in pain once more, but he wasn’t done yet. He turned, swinging his leg back and out. The sole of his shoe met the end of the staff, driving it through and out the front of the Shadow’s leg. It’s scream echoed off the hall walls, and as it fell to its side it finally dropped its hammer.

Akechi grabbed the hammer, swinging it up in a full body motion so that it rested on his shoulder. He looked down at the Shadow that still glared at him with a lotta hate for a guy who just lost. “Ya should’ve taken your bet with the boss.” Akechi taunted. He dropped the hammer, and the Shadow disappeared.

He walked back into the security room. There were Shadows patrolling everywhere, and it seemed like his stunts were bringing in more of them. He shook his head. Like  _ that _ would help. More importantly, he got a glimpse of something else. A room filled with trophies and plaques. He took a closer look. The flooring was more traditionally Japanese than the rest of the place, which felt a lot more Western. Sliding rice paper doors behind the trophy shelves, racks with traditional weapons at the edges of the room. And sitting at the center of the room was a throne, with a ball of shimmering light floating just above the seat. 

Shibusawa’s Desire Room, the root of the Palace. “The Dragon’s Shrine,” he read off the camera. It was on the far side of the Coliseum, with a clear and commanding view of the Coliseum arena below. It was the perfect place for a conceited bastard to watch his “inevitable” victory. 

Akechi’s grin grew. The face reflected in the screen in front of him was not that of a detective nor a hitman, but the snarl of a bloodhound. This was going to be  _ fun. _


	6. Chapter 6

Akechi kicked the door down, and it hit the ground with a heavy thud. He stormed in after with a snarl, a heavy length of broken wood leaning against his shoulder. He looked left, then right. The room was empty. “How boring,” he muttered, letting the lumber fall to the floor.

He stepped into the room. There was a small step where the marble met a light colored tatami. A set of slippers sat unused on the flooring. Akechi ignored it, stepping up into the room without even closing the door behind him. Blood dripped down his arm onto the carpet, leaving a scarlet trail as he walked. He chuckled. 

If he had to bleed, he was gonna make as much of a mess of it as he damn well could.

The woodwork of the room was far more impressive in person than over a shitty CCTV monitor. It was damn pristine, with a dark stain and a perfectly smooth finish. What was this, mahogany? He scoffed. “Stick with a damn theme,” he muttered.

There were two layers to the room: an inner layer and an outer layer. The weapons racks were within the inner layer, enclosed on all sides but the open shoji door right in front of him. It was like a damn museum in there, or maybe a martial arts dojo. Katanas, naginatas, bo staves, wakizashis, tachis, and tantos sat on displays in a straight line down the center of the room all the way to a final, empty rack.

Akechi grunted. He could come back for something later, but it wasn’t gonna compare to the satisfaction of breaking kneecaps with his bat. He ignored the weapons’ display and walked around to the outer hallway.

At the opposite end was the sight he saw over the cameras. Glass displays lined all the walls, filled with all kinds of trophies. Below them, only the most gaudy weapons sat in the racks by the wooden columns, the most finely decorated swords. The kind no one in their right mind would use in a fight when they could just sell ‘em for millions instead. He picked up a golden western longsword, before tossing it on the floor. Useless, expensive junk.

He strut through the hall. “Let’s see what the ya thinks you’ve ‘won,’ shall we?” Akechi walked up to a trophy of a man holding up ceremonial pistol. “This one here is…’Nashitani Homare?’” Akechi frowned. He recognized that last name. It was an Omi Family in Osaka that ran protection rackets on some of the locals when he was still living there. “What the…” He looked at the next name. _Tachibana Tetsu._ A man holding a sledgehammer in both hands at his waist, staring out at anyone who would question it. Akechi’s blood ran cold.

He looked around. There were hundreds of trophies in the room. Maybe thousands. The trophy cases weren’t some high school five foot tall displays, either. They reached from the ground to the damn ceiling, and he couldn’t even see the walls around them. By the chair, though, there were some gaps. Empty spots. Future targets. 

The largest one caught his eye first. “Kazama Shintaro,” he read. So they were right about the scheming, then. The empty pedestal was a meter wide, and space was cleared for over four meters above it. He really hated that man.

Beside it were two smaller pedestals. _Kuze Daisuke,_ and _Awano Hiroki._ The other two lieutenants. The man had plans for anything, then. Akechi started to turn away from the two, before he saw the kanji ripple and fade. He spun around, fists raised into a guard, but the room was still empty. Outside, he could hear the stadium roar. 

He slowly turned around. The two smaller pedestals were still there, but the names were different. The one that used to be reserved for Kuze was bigger. Not as wide as Kazama’s, but growing, centimeter by centimeter. _Kiryu Kazuma,_ the epitaph read.

On the other side, Awano’s former pedestal was a tiny bit smaller, but also more...unclear. Unpredictable. As if Shibusawa wasn’t quite sure what the value of his next target could possibly be. _Nishikiyama Akira._

Just past Nishiki’s was a new pedestal. This one was tiny, maybe the size of a coaster. The name inscribed into it was thin and hard to read. Akechi crouched down to the floor and strained to make out what the text. His eye widened.

**“Makimura Makoto.”** The words echoed through the chamber. Akechi rose to his feet, both hands raised and a wild look in his eye. At the far end of the room, a thin figure walked towards him. **“Her brother claimed to be the heir to the Empty Lot, a small piece of land at the center of the current Millennium Tower. Pawned it off to the Nikkyo Consortium before I could remove him, and now Sera sits as Chairman.”**

The man came to a stop behind the chair, a thin smile on his face. “ **Not a name anyone in the Tojo Clan ever expected to see again, after her brother’s gambit paid off. No one but Kazama. A smart man, and a good record keeper. No one else ever would’ve known who truly owned that lot.”**

“What, ya finally decided to do somethin’ for yourself?!” Akechi snarled. “I figured you’d come runnin’ hours ago.”

**“Then you don’t know the first damn thing about being a yakuza.”** Shibusawa’s Shadow chuckled. Now that Akechi could get a good look at him, he didn’t look especially odd for a Shadow. He wore a gold suit, and carried one of the ceremonial swords from his weapons room over his shoulder. **“Once you reach a certain point, the punks on the street don’t matter. Did you really think I’d come running for a rat?”**

“You bastard-”

Akechi’s instincts screamed, and he ducked to the side. Shubusawa’s blade cut through the air over his head. The Shadow swung its leg out and caught Akechi in the chest. He went sailing into the center of the room, twisting and rolling to his feet. **“Weak. The forces in this world are...lacking. Good muscle needs some brains if it’s to do anything right, and the shadows of this world have little to none.”**

“With the company you keep, I’m sure you’d know.” Akechi sniped.

**“They let a rat infest my stadium, on the most important night yet. A sentimental, foolish rat at that.”** Shibusawa’s Shadow scoffed. **“And so I have to snuff you out myself. It’ll be easy.”** He smiled. **“Like a baby in his crib. A lame, one eyed baby.”**

Akechi’s face twisted with the fury of a demon. “Yeah, you’d know all about that!”

**“Why so angry? Did you read something disturbing?”** Shibusawa lunged again and cut a thin line across Akechi’s face before he could evade. **“You wouldn’t react like this if you didn’t know the name. She is alive.”** Akechi opened his mouth, but a sandaled foot slammed his head into the ground. He rolled before the sword could pin him to the tatami. 

**“I couldn’t be sure. It was only a suspicion that led me that way, after all. A suspicious death with an unreliable autopsy, the examiner retired and linked to a figure known to have a soft spot for young girls. However,”** Shibusawa’s eyes narrowed. **“There should be no one else who would know. What family are you from? Awano?”**

“Akechi,” He mouthed off, and a foot smashed into him one more time. 

**“Akechi, huh.”** Shibusawa’s Shadow picked him up by the throat, and Akechi’s fingers dug into his wrists. **“The man who betrayed Nobunaga. Burned his leader’s home and razed it, for the sake of slights and happenstance.”** Akechi tore himself free with a grunt. **“A petty obstacle at best.”**

Shibusawa swung his sword. Akechi jumped back, falling through the rice paper wall of the armory and smashing into the padded ground. He coughed and flipped onto his chest. He needed to get up. 

To the right, the screens lowered. The trophies along that wall sunk into the ground, and the wall behind sunk with them, revealing a massive window. Only a few meters below below was the stadium. Two figures stood at the far side, fighting through a massive crowd of ghosts. Just below them, a man in a suit faced the unseen carnage with his back turned to them.

**“I’ll give you this privilege, rat.”** A hand grabbed onto Akechi’s hair and hauled him to his feet, before a foot swept at his. Akechi jumped over the blow and grabbed the hand holding his head, tearing it away before landing a solid punch on the Shadow’s forehead. 

**“Watch that battle closely. In an hour’s time, you will be dead.”** It staggered back, the amusement turning bitter. **“Kazama and his boys will be dead. Makimura’s head will be mine, and I will tear the Chairman down from his throne. In an hour’s time, I will ascend to be the Dragon.”** His face twisted in an inhuman scowl to match Akechi’s. **“You will be the last unworthy rat that dies by my hand!”**

Akechi’s hand flicked down to the floor. He scooped up a tanto knife, the blade as long as his forearm, and threw the scabbard to the side. His eyes wandered to the arena. In the distance, he could see medium length hair flying around the first fighter’s head as he fought against a threat no one could see. Sharp features stood out, but Nishiki’s trademark red-and-leopard-print suit stuck out even moreso.

In the foreground, just meters outside of his window, Kiryu’s coat and shirt hit the ground. The old man before him had shed his before, and now he bore a tattoo of a dragon on his back. He met Kiryu’s eyes. His friend wasn’t here. This was just a perversion of whatever the hell was happenin’ in the real world. But knowing this bastard would be takin’ the beating outside and inside made him feel just a little better.

Akechi crouched down into a low lunge, pulling his knife into a guard. Shibusawa’s Shadow readjusted his grip on the sword. Outside, Kiryu charged, bellowing a wordless battle cry. Akechi may as well do him one better. He inhaled, before he roared, _“Shibusawa!”_

* * *

**_Demon of Determination, Shibusawa Keiji_ **

* * *

Shibusawa’s Shadow swung his sword at Akechi’s neck. Akechi caught the sword on his knife, pushing into Shibusawa’s guard until his forehead collided with the Shadow’s. He glared a hole into the Shadow’s eyes, before he dragged his blade against the Shadow’s sword. The tanto slid free of the deadlock and he thrust it up towards Shibusawa’s throat.

The Shadow weaved around the knife, kneeing Akechi in the leg. The younger man turned with the blow and swung his knife out, slicing Shibusawa’s cheek. Both of them stepped back. Akechi shook out his leg while Shibusawa reached up, touching two fingers to the cut on his face. While he was distracted, Akechi lunged forward. Shibusawa jumped sideways, and Akechi pursued him towards the window.

In the arena below, the cognitive Kiryu and true Shibusawa slammed their fists into each other. Shibusawa caught Kiryu with a knee to the gut, trying to follow it up with an uppercut. Kiryu retaliated by elbowing the man’s hand as he swung, following up the counter with a heavy hook. They staggered away from each other, before rushing back in and grabbing each other by the shoulders as the crowd called for blood.

A flash of silver brought Akechi’s brain back to the present, and he leaned underneath the thrust, balancing on his toes with his back inches from the floor. Shadow Shibusawa adjusted his grip on his sword and swung straight down, Akechi catching the impact with his own blade at the cost of his balance. His back hit the floor. Shibusawa raised a foot, prepared to end the fight there.

But Akechi rolled onto his shoulders and kicked the Shadow in the face, knocking it backwards. Swinging to his feet, Akechi flicked his knife in and out of Shibusawa’s guard, pushing the Shadow back towards the trophy room. One of his blows went wide, and Shibusawa parried it, knocking the knife out of his hands and into the air. The Shadow lunged, but Akechi sprung backwards, kicking the sword out of Shibusawa’s hands and into the air. 

They both looked up. Both blades tumbled in the sky, end over end. Their eyes met. Akechi jumped, reaching up to grab both blades from the sky. Shibusawa grabbed Akechi’s leg, swinging him back to the ground and stomping on his chest. The sword landed in Shibusawa’s hands, while the tanto dug itself into the tatami far behind Shibusawa. 

**“Civilians like you couldn’t get it. A yakuza doesn’t write his legacy in ink or paint. He writes it in blood.”** Shibusawa chuckled. **“Some have what it takes to write it in their own. Some write it in their own because they are fools. But I’ll write my legend in the blood of Kazama, Sera, Makimura, and rats like you! ”**

Akechi rolled as Shibusawa’s sword cut along the mats lazily. “Big man, aimin’ for a teenager!” He snarled. “Makimura should be in school, makin’ friends, makin’ a future for herself! Without having to worry about bastards like you, ruinin’ the lives of little girls!” He broke into a sprint.

**“A raincloud may bring water to a farm in drought. But the dragon does not concern himself with the clouds he disperses every time he flies. Every kill, every ruined life, is just a flap of the wings! Every pull of the trigger, a reclamation of what’s owed!”** Shibusawa darted forward, and Akechi slid below the blade. He ran for his knife. 

“A reclamation? I’ll show you what that damn word means!” Akechi yanked the tanto from the ground and threw it. It caught Shibusawa in the leg, and he fell to one knee. “What, still can’t see what I am? Or are ya just that damn stubborn?!”

Shibusawa tore the knife from his leg. Then, he squeezed the blade. The metal warped in his grip. When he dropped it, it was just a twisted piece of steel. The cuts on his face closed, and the hole in his leg closed. **“I know exactly what you are. You’re a rat. Like Kazama’s boys, Nishitani, Tachibana, and the rest who stood in my way.”**

Shibusawa swung, and Akechi ducked in rather than out. He locked Shibusawa’s arms in his own and twisted. Bones cracked and split and the sword fell to the ground. Akechi kicked it away before he turned to Shibusawa. “Ya want me dead? Use your own fuckin’ hands.” 

**“If you insist.”** Shibusawa’s fist caught Akechi in the chest. He retaliated with a palm to the jaw. Shibusawa buried a fist in his ribs. Akechi coughed. Then he kneed the man in the side of the leg and brought that leg high. His heel slammed into Shibusawa’s face, knocking it down into the perfect position for an uppercut. Shibusawa staggered back and Akechi pressed the advantage, swinging his elbow for Shibusawa’s face. The man blocked it with his forearm, then swung Akechi around into a pillar. 

Akechi hit it headfirst. A punch caught him in the unprotected side, and he let it spin him around just in time to dodge a sidekick from Shibusawa. The Shadow’s leg cracked the pillar, and Akechi latched onto the leg, slamming his elbow into the top of Shibusawa’s knee. Then he levered it up, throwing the Shadow to the floor.

He careened over the Shadow, his knee slamming into his rib cage. Shibusawa, coughed, before reaching a hand over to grab a hold of Akechi’s hair. He yanked, flipping Akechi off of him, before rolling to his knees and tackling Akechi onto the floor.

**“Not bad,”** He offered, before slamming a fist into Akechi’s eyepatch. The world lit up with pain, and Akechi threw up a hasty guard. Shibusawa reached through it and grabbed onto his face. Akechi bit the Shadow’s hand and he recoiled enough for a kick to launch him off of him.

Akechi followed him up, kicking up onto the pillar and swinging his foot down like a hammer onto Shibusawa’s guard. The Shadow knocked the blow away and charged, but Akechi slipped behind him, slinging an arm around the Shadow’s neck and squeezing.

Shibusawa grabbed onto Akechi’s arm, then reached around for his shoulder. Then he pushed back, forcing Akechi further and further back until they were practically running. Akechi felt his back slam against a trophy case, and glass rained down all over him.

Shibusawa twisted out of his grip and grabbed a piece of glass, slicing towards Akechi’s eye. He weaved his head out of the way, slamming his fist into the Shadow’s solar plexus. Shibusawa stumbled away, and Akechi grabbed a random trophy, smashing it across Shibusawa’s face and sending the Shadow to the ground.

This wasn’t how battles with Shadows went. Usually, the Shadow revealed its true form, rather than holding onto a human-like body. Usually, it recognized Akechi as an existential threat, letting him leverage his full potential against it. Usually, it involved a lot less fistfighting.

Even as he stood, Shibusawa’s wounds were healing. He wiped a hand across his face and flicked the blood to the floor. **“Not bad.”** Shibusawa’s Shadow said grudgingly. **“Better than most of the boys at the bottom, I’ll give you that.”**

“If I wanted to be called a thug, I’d just call up my coworker.” Akechi said. “But you ain’t just some bureaucrat talkin’ shit from the top, either. You hit hard when you’re holding back.”

**“The Dragon of Dojima isn’t fit to fight gutter trash.”** Shibusawa smiled. **“So a punk like you’s gonna deal with a yakuza, not a dragon.”**

“Why can’t it be both?” Akechi waved a hand at the arena. “Kiryu-chan’s doin’ a good job of bein’ both, don’t ya think?”

Shibusawa’s eyes darted to the arena. The cognitive Shibusawa threw a wide punch at Kiryu, who blocked it with a heavy counter. He fell back, and Kiryu followed with a kick that knocked him to the down. He took up a position on top of him, smashing his fists against the old man’s face over and over again. The crowd booed. Akechi whooped. Shibusawa turned to Akechi with a look of hatred. **“You’re with** **_them.”_ **

“Me? Nah! Kiryu-chan and Nishiki-han said this was yakuza business, so I left the yakuza business to the yakuza. I’m just here to enjoy the show, Shibusawa-chan. Until I saw that hit, that is. But I ain’t worried.” His grin grew too wide for his face. “It takes a dragon to beat one, right?”

**“Who the fuck are you?”** Shibusawa demanded, leaning forward. **“What the fuck are you doing here?!”**

The air in the room shifted. Akechi felt something stir in him, a familiar feeling. One he felt every time he entered this world. A feeling he’d been waiting for. “Yo, Shibusawa.” He grinned. “Ya finally takin’ me seriously, huh?!”

The Detective Prince’s khaki suit burned up in black flames. His pants grew tighter, clinging to his legs. His shoes grew sharper, shinier, with a subtle snakeskin pattern stretching across the top. An open jacket replaced his shirt and blazer, a gaudy yellow snakeskin with no buttons to hold it closed in any case. The comforting weight of a one eyed hannya mask covered his vision. 

Shibusawa stared at him, before he laughed. He laughed and laughed, the echoes booming across the hall. It was desperate. It was powerful. And then it cut off, replaced by the cold, calculating look of a predator. **“I know what you are now.”** He stood straight. **“The snake in the grass, Assassin of Dreams. I know you, Mad Dog of Shido.”**

“Then you know what comes next.”

**“I didn’t touch his enterprise. I’ve kept my hands off.”** Shibusawa scowled. **“Why would he send you?”**

“...it ain’t you, then.” Akechi scoffed. “I ain’t on a leash right now. You did nothin’ wrong, in his eyes. Hell, he couldn’t give less of a shit about you. I came for your head because I wanted it for myself. That’s all there is to it.”

**“Then I’ll strike you down myself.”** Shibusawa’s body rippled. **“You should’ve stayed down the first time I threw you. Yet you kept pushing and pushing. Never satisfied. I understand that feeling.”**

“Me and you ain’t nothing alike.” Akechi growled.

Shibusawa’s laugh echoed even louder, forcing Akechi back. **“Then I’ll simply devour you. You, Makoto, Kiryu, Nishikiyama, Kashiwagi, Kazama, Awano, Kuze, anyone who stands in my way.”**

His body twisted, and melted into shadows. Then it exploded outwards, blinding Akechi as the room shook. The dust cleared, and Shibusawa’s true form was exposed. A massive serpent sat at the center of the room. Eight heads wriggled in the air, eight tails cracked against the walls. The monster was covered in tattoos, thousands of them, tangled together into a meaningless mess of color. “The tattoos of everyone you crushed, huh? Pathetic.” Akechi muttered. **  
****“All who stand in my way are simply fools to be devoured.”** Yamata-no-Orochi declared. **“I will dip my brush into their still-beating hearts to write the legend of the Dragon of Dojima!”**

A head cracked forward, and Akechi dodged to the side. It bit down, tearing up an entire section of the ground. “Don’t get cocky.” Akechi said. “You ain’t the only one with a trick up his sleeve.” He grabbed his mask in one hand, and the edge of his coat with the other. In one smooth pull, he threw them both to the ground. _“Persona!”_

The mask faded before it hit the ground. Behind him, a demon sat. Its face was twisted into a constant sneer, its hands floated feet from the stumps at the ends of its arms. It wore a yellow kimono that breathed with fire and demonic curses, and in each hand it held a burning dagger.

It’s sneer matched the one on his face, the one on his mask, and the one on his back. His tattoos, infused in his skin whenever he summoned his Persona, burned with a black flame. Two snakes ensnared his upper chest and his arms, slithering across a backdrop of black ripples and pink flowers. At his back, the bitter rage of the Hannya burned.

The Mad Dog of Shido unsheathed the dagger at his back, throwing the scabbard aside to face down his foe alone. “Dip that brush, if ya can!” He warned. “But ya don’t stand a chance in hell against me now. _Drag him to the deepest pits of hell, Ibaraki Douji!”_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not quite like a dragon

No two fights were equal, but they usually fell into the same categories. There were petty brawls, on the streets or in the alleys against muggers and thugs. These were easy, simple. You smashed around the idiots until they stopped moving and moved on. These were the ones that were fun, easy, but ya couldn’t be caught in if you had a rep to protect.

The next were true fights. Life or death, between two parties that didn’t really give a shit about each other. This was what he faced in Mementos, or when infiltrating Palaces. Shadows meant nothing to him, but they could kill him if he fucked up hard enough, and he definitely shot to kill here. These were fun, no consequences, no holds barred.

There were hits. He hated hits. This was when he went in with intent to kill, for no one’s sake but Shido’s or one of his cronies. Those were a punishment of their own, and he hated every single fucking second of it.

Finally, though, was the final kind of battle. The clash of wills, the true fight to survive. The fight of an underdog facin’ up against the big leagues. The fight of a child against an adult. A battle of ideologies. A fight to protect what you love. A fight that _mattered_.

Ibaraki Douji’s disembodied hands grabbed onto two of Orochi’s heads, gouging them within his claws. A third head shot at Ibaraki’s neck. It caught the strike in his jaws and bit down, crushing the snake’s skull inside its jaws. Then the entire Persona lit up in hellfire, burning the snake until it tore itself free. Ice bit at Ibaraki’s sides, but the Persona shrugged off the hits like nothing. It would take more than a chill to down him.

In all of the fights Akechi had ever fought, out of all the hits and kills and brawls he’d been involved in...this was only the third that mattered. The first was when he lost his eye. The second was when he lost his chance at a peaceful life. Now the third would be to save Makoto’s.

Orochi’s tails whipped around its body and snapped against Ibaraki Douji. Akechi felt the blows like they were on his own body. But he didn’t flinch. Instead, he focused inwards and concentrated. Then, he opened his eye and shrieked.

Ibaraki screamed with him, and the room shook. The cries of the crowds in the bleachers were replaced with a muted horror, glass shattered, and Orochi backed off. Akechi lunged, and Ibaraki lunged with him, a clawed hand extending to grip one of Orochi’s heads by the throat. 

The head bit at where a wrist would be and snapped at air. With a snap, the head fell silent, before it forced itself back into motion like a broken hand struggling to grip a pen. The hand glowed white with fire and scorched the neck, and the snake shrieked.

Yeah. Snake. Even in his own heart, Shibusawa fell short of his own desires. Akechi’s cheshire smile widened even further with that thought. Ibaraki leaned towards the spasming head and cooed, “How pathetic,” before he bit down. The snake jerked away too late, leaving just a spasming stump behind.

Akechi felt the bruises from the lashing fade away. He rolled his neck. “Ya should’ve just killed me quick, Shibusawa.” He griped. “But nah. Ya had to monologue, and gloat, and toy, and look where that’s got ya.”

 **“I am the Dragon of Dojima!”** Shibusawa roared. The stump slid into the heart of the snake, and it grew larger. **“For every obstacle I face, I grow stronger. For every life in my way, I grow harder. Don’t underestimate me!”**

“It’s already over!” Akechi cackled as Ibaraki lunged, grappling with the pathetic excuse for a dragon again. “You went after my friends, my people?! I’ll hang you from the Millennium Tower myself!”

Ice spread along Yamata-no-Orochi’s body, freezing Ibaraki’s hands to its heads. Akechi scoffed. Useless, useless, useless! What the hell was he—

A tail whipped across Ibaraki’s hands, shattering the ice and throwing them down to the ground. Akechi felt something in his hands snap, and he strangled a scream in his throat, nearly dropping his knife and keeling over. He looked up, and a snakes’ head was flying straight for him. Ibaraki moved to intercept, but was too slow. He threw his arms up in front of him.

It was like gettin’ hit with a truck. It broke straight through his guard, flinging him across the trophy room and back into the weapons room. **“You, your precious friends... die for me!”** Akechi swung himself to his feet and looked up. Orochi was slithering through the trophy room, its sides smashing against the walls and the pillars as it threw itself forward for the sole purpose of crushing him and stamping out the last resistance to his soul. 

Akechi looked to the side, and saw a massive sword laying on the ground. An...odachi? It didn’t matter. Ibaraki grabbed the massive sword and held it like a knife in his hands, its sole weapon for halting the advance of a great serpent. Ibaraki bared his teeth at the challenge and lunged. Orochi’s lead head thrust out at Ibaraki, and the Persona swung the sword down, impaling the head to the floor. Then the rest of the Shadow slammed into it, and Akechi’s feet strained against the ground for traction.

Ibaraki pushed the Serpent off, before swinging his leg down in an axe kick to the top of the sword. It drove all the way through the Serpent’s head, and it tried to withdraw once more. Ibaraki’s hands grabbed onto the neck of the trapped head and squeezed, popping it off and letting the snake tumble back. The snake’s neck snapped back into the body, and it grew a few meters longer once more.

Ibaraki tore the decapitated head from the ground and once more swallowed it whole, and Akechi felt his exhaustion begin to fade. He focused back on Orochi before him. **“My life’s work...putting up with _Dojima_ for decades…”** Lightning sparked in the mouth of one of the mouths. **“Years of loyalty and disgrace, insults and petty grievances will not have been for nothing!”**

“Face reality, ya damn worm!” Akechi adjusted the grip on his knife and ran in, Ibaraki hanging over his back like a marionette. Orochi blasted the lightning at him and Akechi caught it on his knife. The blade absorbed the shock, energy crackling along the edge as he pushed forward and jammed it between three of the lightning-trunk’s scales. The energy fizzled into the wound, paralyzing the head and neck. “You’ve outlived the game!”

He let fire and wind wash over him as Ibaraki’s hands grasped two heads within his claws and crushed them. The two heads fell to the ground. Akechi tore his knife from the neck, and the lightning head collapsed. He got another five stabs in before two tails smashed him to the ground, and a third flung him away. By the time he was on his feet, the three destroyed heads were sinking back into the serpent’s body. It grew once more, its torso now wider than a bus.

It lunged for him, now, and he backpedalled, Ibaraki’s arms darting in and out to disrupt its flow. There only three heads remaining, and yet they were stronger than the other five combined. One of them opened their jaws and roared, and he felt a mind numbing pain in his ears and behind his eyes. He grit his teeth. Then Ibaraki’s left hand crushed that head’s mouth shut. The next head bit down on the Persona’s hand, and Akechi’s bled with it.

The third head darted in and bit down on Ibaraki’s shoulder where it met his neck, and piercing pain filled Akechi’s chest and back. He laughed, and Ibaraki’s right hand grabbed the neck, holding the head in place. Then the Persona kneed it once, twice, and opened its mouth. The Oni roared, and the head melted away under the strain of a thousand grudges until it withered into dust. 

Ibaraki tossed the remains aside, and the serpent consumed even those scraps, fighting for even the smallest advance in power. It’s fangs bit through Ibaraki’s left hand, and Akechi felt a rush. Ibaraki’s right hand latched onto the seventh head and squeezed. It grew in its grip, grew into the Persona’s piercing talons, and Ibaraki twisted its hand, raking the claws through the snake’s head. It pulled away, and Akechi followed once more, swinging up with his knife as Ibaraki swung down with both hands. The head fell from the neck. It didn’t even reach the ground before the demon scooped it up and ate it.

In the corner of his eye, Akechi could see his reflection in the glass. His snakeskin jacket was torn and ruffled. His hair was a bloody mess. Everything about him was a bloody mess, from his torn and bloodied pants to the sharp cuts and bruises on his chest. And his eye was the eye of a caged beast.

**“I will not fall.”**

Yamata-no-Orochi forced itself up and roared. The final destroyed stump snapped back into the Shadow’s body, leaving only the centermost, the one the Shadow spoke through, the original mind of the serpent. The entire body writhed, before it stretched. The stumps fused back into smooth scales, and the eight tails twisted around each other. The Shadow’s face changed, aging further and further until its skin hung off it in a parody of facial hair. It dug itself into the ground and the ceiling, suspending itself in the center of the room and pretending it could fly. **“I am the Dragon of Dojima! The might of the Tojo Clan itself!”**

It was a snake, flinging itself into the air and praying it would fly.

It was the final, desperate delusion of an old man who lost years ago and didn’t have the sense to give up. The final token resistance one put up before they faded away. Akechi would’ve found it pitiful, if this man was not so focused on killing so many people for the sake of a fraction of a chance. All he could muster up was rage.

“Shibusawa…” Akechi growled. “If you wanna be a legend so much, you should’ve written your legend in an ink of your own blood! But now, I’ll crush every last shred of hope in your twisted mind!”

 **“Bold words, for one facing a dragon!”** Orochi coiled. **“Now, die!”**

The false dragon surged forward. Ibaraki flew forwards too, Akechi sprinting just under it with his knife held parallel to the floor. The Shadow flew over him and he jumped, thrusting a hand into a gap between two of the tails and pulling himself onto its back.

Orochi slithered past Ibaraki, before coiling around the Persona several times. It reared its jaw open and called upon curses and hatred formed through decades of sitting in the third seat from the top, a footnote to a footnote. The paint was stripped from the walls. The floor rotted away around them.

But when it was all said and done, Ibaraki’s cruel smile poked through the hate, and the entire blade of Akechi’s demonfire dagger was buried in the head of the serpent. **“I...was to defy the gods…”** Shibusawa’s Shadow melted away, leaving its broken excuse for a man lying on its back. **“A lifetime nearly perfected, torn away by some fucked up kid.”**

“You threw it away the second you went after good people.” Akechi planted a shoe on the Shadow’s hand. “You targeted an innocent girl, and good men who were strong enough to stand up to ya. Even if I wasn’t here, you messed this up all on your own.”

**“Then why did you fight?”**

Akechi crouched in front of Shibusawa. “Because I coulda done something, so I did. Simple as that. You got unlucky.”

The Shadow chuckled. **“So this is how it all ends. This is the part where you kill me, isn’t it?”**

“If I did, they’d link it back to Kiryu-chan and Nishiki-han.” Akechi shook his head. “There’s nothin’ I’d like better than to bury this blade in your skull again. But that ain’t in the books now. I’ve got somethin’ better in mind.”

His tattoos faded away. His snakeskin jacket and leather pants burned to nothing, transforming into a full fitted suit. The Hannya mask exploded, and Ibaraki with it. In its place was a simple opera mask, and a black and white specter sitting over his shoulder. Shibusawa watched the transition in silence.

“I figure Kiryu-chan beat ya pretty damn bad. You’ll need to go out on a stretcher, at least. And Nishiki-han’s definitely put your boys in the dirt. Two boys thrashed your family.” Akechi smiled professionally. “Your reputation died today. I’m just puttin’ the nail in the coffin.”

He placed a hand on Shibusawa’s head and smiled. _“Drive him mad, Loki.”_

* * *

_“When the day comes that you cross that line, I’ll cross it with you.”_

_Kiryu looked down at his bloodied fists. He’d been so close, so close to crossing that line. So close to doing exactly what Shibusawa begged him to do, as if that made him any more of a yakuza than anything that came before. As if it made him a man. Part of him felt disgust at how easily it came. But the only thing he could truly muster up was gratitude._

_He looked around the headquarters. The room was trashed. Bullet holes filled the hallway just outside from Nishiki’s fight against the clan. Somehow, he’d beat them down without staining his hands. He did get blood on his clothes, though. He smiled at the look on his face when he realized he needed a new outfit._

_His brother was getting Kashiwagi. The office was twenty floors lower on the Millennium Tower, an intentional slight against the smaller family to show who had the power in the hierarchy. It didn’t ever get to the man, but Kiryu knew he would be happy to see Shibusawa gone. The man was a traitor, after all._

_Across the room, the old man stirred. “Oi, stay down!” Kiryu barked. “EMTs are on the way. You’re in no damn shape to move.” The lieutenant forced himself to his knees, and Kiryu stood. “Stay down, dammit!”_

_Then he saw his eyes. A black fluid spilled out of his tear ducts and his mouth. Kiryu took a step back, reaching for his phone. Shibusawa lunged forward, and Kiryu ducked to the side. The boss’ hand smashed into the table, shattering the bones in his hand. The man ignored the damage, shrieking as he charged Kiryu again. The younger yakuza kicked the man in the side of the leg, and he went down next to a set of scissors. Shibusawa grabbed hold of them and grabbed at Kiryu’s legs._

_“Let go!” He stepped back before he felt something slide out from underneath him. Shibusawa crawled over him and thrust the dagger down towards Kiryu’s face. Black fluid fell onto Kiryu’s face. “You bastard!” He forced the words out, pushing the dagger back._

_The mad yakuza leaned in, and the dagger began to descend again. It moved, inch by inch, towards Kiryu’s face, and he leaned away. If this was how it ended…_

_“KIRYU!” A gunshot rang out, and Shibusawa fell off of him. The boss forced itself back upright, before another gunshot rang out. Then another, and another, and another. Kiryu raised a hand to his face and felt blood that wasn’t his own._

_In the doorway, Nishiki stood with a pistol held in both hands. It was empty, the slide permanently held open, and it shook in his grip. Another hand reached to pull the gun from his hand, and Nishiki let it clatter to the floor. Kashiwagi grimaced at the sight._

_An excommunicated member of the Tojo Clan and a street enforcer standing above a smoking gun, both of whom were like children to Kazama, and the most cunning lieutenant of the Dojima family lying face up, bleeding from seven holes in his chest. It was like a scene from a nightmare. But the shock on the boys’ faces, the stench of gunpowder in the air, was as real as the floor beneath his feet._

* * *

_18 June, 2016_

Akechi went to Serena after he left the Palace. He entered the real world to find it as empty as when he walked in, before stepping out. The security cameras could get on him about spending fifteen hours in a bar in Kamurocho, but there wasn’t evidence of anything really criminal. He slept heavy that night, even if his exhaustion was to the point he didn’t feel better when he woke up.

The sun was on its way down by the time he ate food, his stomach hurting from hunger. With that (mostly) satisfied, he checked his phone. No texts from the boss, none from Sae-han, none from Akira-chan, a few thousand emails from fans that he ignored. Nothing from Kiryu-chan or Nishiki-han, either. He exhaled. He may as well try the one place he could bet on.

Serena was empty. No old guy singing karaoke with two girls on his arm, no salarymen sitting at the plush seats enjoying a stiff one. Just the lights, and a very familiar crowd. “Ah, Akechi-kun!” The bartender, Reina, gave him a polite smile. “The bar’s closed, but—”

“It’s fine. Akechi’s a friend.” Sitting at the bar in his usual spot was Nishikiyama. Not Nishiki, right now. He didn’t have an easy grin or flashy charm or even just a warm welcome. He felt cold. He was slumped over the bar with rounded shoulders, looking away from the door. “Kiryu, we got company.

Kiryu sat up on the couch, a drink in his hand. “Goro-kun.” He greeted him. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Ah, you guys didn’t have to worry about me!” Akechi strut into the bar with an easy grin. “I just lay down in the back room till the Dojima boys went away, then waited around a little longer to be safe. Most dangerous shit _I_ got into was not eating for a day and a half.”

“Idiot.” Kiryu shook his head. “Why didn’t you eat before then?!”

“Couldn’t stomach anything that mornin’, so I just went straight to Serena when you called.” Akechi shrugged. “I got some grub before I swung by here. Figured you guys would be hanging around. Reina, gimme the house special.”

Reina gave him an amused glance and poured him a glass of water.

He took a long sip. “Ahh! Nothin’ hits the spot like a good drink on the rocks, don’t ya think? Kiryu-chan? Nishiki-han?”

Nishikiyama snorted. “I’ll drink to that.” He raised his glass, and he always drank with his right hand. It was only natural to drink with the dominant hand. It was only natural, for punishment to be administered to the dominant hand. None of that took away the shock from seeing the bandages wrapped around his hand, covering the stump that remained of his pinky finger. “I could drink to anything right about now.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Kiryu said quietly. 

Nishikiyama waved him off and downed the glass, putting it back on the bar. “Reina, another please. Same stuff.”

“You’ve been drinking for an hour.” She said. “It’s not good for you.”

“Reina.” He looked up at her, and there must’ve been something really good in that look because she swallowed down a lump in her throat and poured him another glass. He reached for it, before a tight grip on his wrist stopped him. “...Akechi-san. Remove your hand.”

“Yo, Nishiki.” Akechi squeezed his wrist. “When the barkeep tells you to chill, it’s best to take a moment and think.” 

“It’s not your business.”

“Nah, it ain’t. Cuz you shut me out.” Akechi leaned in. “You and Kiryu kept me out cuz it was Tojo Clan business, yeah? Well, Tojo Clan business just took off with my buddy’s little finger, while I was sittin’ around an empty bar waitin’ for the punks to clear out. So I think that makes it my business, don’t you?”

“No.” Nishiki yanked his hand out of Akechi’s grip. “Tojo business stays Tojo business. I ain’t a damn snitch, and you’re a fucking detective. I was an idiot to ever tell you shit.”

“Yeah.” Akechi agreed. “Except Kiryu-chan was a civilian, wasn’t he? That ain’t exactly Tojo Clan, is it? Real estate’s yakuza business? That’s how things are?”

“Fuck you.”

Akechi stood up and his seat fell to the floor. “Friend or not, I ain’t takin’ this shit from you.” Nishikiyama rose with him and gave him an ice cold glare. They both tensed, and Reina looked between the two of them as they squared off. Akechi felt somethin’ ugly boiling in his stomach. If Nishikiyama wanted a damn fight so much—

“Shibusawa’s dead.” 

The words cut the tension right out of Akechi’s body. He stared at Kiryu and blinked. “What was that?”

“He didn’t need to know, Kiryu.” Defeated, Nishikiyama sat back down at the bar. He took a long sip of his drink. “Yeah. He’s dead. I killed him.”

Akechi frowned. That didn’t add up, the old man was fighting Kiryu, not Nishiki. The old fuck was _beaten, broken,_ he shouldn’t have been able to do shit to anyone and these guys wouldn’t be the kind to execute a guy—

Unless he was driven to the heights of despair, broken down, spared, and then driven into a mindless, bestial rage. Unless he was angry enough to ignore the kind of pain a guy like Kiryu could put him through just to have a chance to return the favor. Unless he was Shibusawa Keiji, and Akechi handed him a loaded gun.

His mouth felt dry. He sat back down before they could notice his legs shaking. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Nishikiyama chuckled bitterly.

“So, how’re you alive?” Akechi asked. “A civilian and an enforcer killing a lieutenant isn’t forgivable in the yakuza.”

“Killing a traitor is. Shibusawa was aiming for the Chairman and the Captain. He crossed the line a long time ago.” Kiryu said. “I wasn’t in the Clan, so they let me off. I’m being reinstated when things blow over.”

“It’ll be nice, having one person I can trust in the Dojima family besides Kashiwagi’s boys.” Nishikiyama’s lips were drawn into a thin line. “Shibusawa was a rat, but Dojima’s still the top earner in the Clan after Sera and Shimano. He’s got pull and Shibusawa was his best damn guy. He couldn’t let that go unanswered.”

Akechi nodded. “So...you’re still in?”

“Dojima was in the minority yesterday.” Nishikiyama said. “But he had me dead to rights. If it weren’t for the top brass hanging over his head for failing to keep his lieutenants in line, I’d be worse than dead.” He shook his head. “Instead, I get to live. I get to stay. But it’s all in disgrace.” He raised the hand to his face and stared at where his pinkie once was. “Any chance of moving up is dead.”

Akechi didn’t know what to say.

“Y’know,” Nishikiyama said, a fake smile on his face, “I didn’t just join up for the sake of some glory. The suits, the style, the girls, it's all nice. But it doesn’t mean shit. I joined the Dojima Family because Kazama raised us, because Kazama-san was our father. Because this was the only damn option that made sense.” He barked out a bitter laugh. “And cuz I needed a lot of fucking money.”

Akechi stared at the bar. “For what?”

“...” Nishikiyama took a sip of his drink. Akechi didn’t have the heart to stop him. “My sister, Yuko. She has a bad heart. There’s treatments, there’s shit that can save her, but it’s all fucking expensive. Medications, operations, in and out, practically every single year. And every time, it costs millions.” Nishiki exhaled. “I can’t leave that on Kazama-san. He took us in, but at some point I’ve gotta take some damn responsibility for my family. And with all this, I doubt I ever will.”

“Nishiki.” Kiryu said quietly.

“Don’t go blaming yourself, Kiryu. I don’t regret it.” Nishikiyama downed the last sip of his drink. “I don’t regret it. If I didn’t, I’d be down a brother. So what’s happened’s happened. No one’s fault but Shibusawa.” He slammed the drink down. “There’s a lieutenant position open now. It’s gonna be filled, and that leaves an opening. And that leaves an opening. All the way down to the bottom, where the rest of us two bit thugs wait our turn. It’s an uphill battle. But I’ll fuckin’ claw my way to the top myself, if I have to.”

“Nishiki, you aren’t alone.” Kiryu walked over to the bar, placing his empty glass off to the side. Reina filled it with something Akechi didn’t like the smell of. “You shot him. I beat him half to death. We both crushed his entire Family. We’ve both got that damn mark on us now.”

“Yeah.” Nishikiyama shook his head. “All that shit you said about me getting involved turned out true, didn’t it? What idiots we both are.”

“Yeah. Just children, playing at yakuza.” Kiryu picked up his glass and sipped. He lowered it. “But this time, we’ll do better.”

“We will.” Nishikiyama nodded. “And if our detective friend leaks any of this to the press, well. We know how that’ll end, don’t we?”

Akechi nodded slowly. “Right.” That wasn’t dangerous at all.

“Anyways, we’ve got you here now.” Nishikiyama pushed the empty glass forward. “No one ever taught you tact, huh? Just barge right through the conversations, as if you’ve got that right.”

Akechi shrugged.

“Don’t get down on me now, jackass.” Nishikiyama clapped him on the shoulder. “Oi, Reina! Bar’s closed for the night, yeah?” He grinned. It was the first time that night he looked warm and charming like he usually did. The first time that night he looked alive. The first time he looked like _Nishiki_ again. “Get out from behind the damn bar, we’re singin’ this misery away.”

Reina raised an eyebrow. “Well, if no one’s coming in for the night, there’s no harm.” She smiled. “Let me guess. Judgement, again?” She turned to Kiryu. “And...Baka Mitai.” She looked at Akechi. “...As Long As You’re Happy?”

“Don’t give me some miserable song like that!” Akechi groaned overdramatically, faking an amused expression. “I’m gonna sing somethin’ with a little joy in it, dammit!”

Reina laughed, and Nishiki threw an arm around him. “Then you’re up first, _Detective_. Consider it payment for dragging me out of my damn pity party.” Akechi nodded, the fake grin still on his face. Then he stood and turned his back on Nishiki to enjoy a party with the family his foolish attempts to help only betrayed.


	8. Chapter 8

_ Meet at the Request Center.  _ Those were the only words on Akechi’s phone when he finally left Serena. He was almost back in a good mood, too, if only because of Kiryu’s overenthusiastic cheering combined with his intense way of singing his heart out. But a meeting at the request center always crushed what little optimism he might be carrying with him when he got the message.

It wouldn’t seem like it, from how it looked. It was a campaign office a little bit out of Shibuya. Pizza sat on the tables, alongside bowls of candy, empty take out containers, and other debris of people working in one place for a while without any real breaks. 

The front rooms were legitimate. “Excuse me, is this Okiwara Shinuchi?” A woman asked over the phone, hunched over a sheet of names and phone numbers. A man studied a map, making marks on it based off of whether they’d sent people to canvass the area yet. He looked up. “Ah, Akechi-kun!” The man smiled. “Shido-san is in the back room waiting for you.”

“Thanks,” He replied with the ghost of a smile. Then he made his feet move towards the back doors. His hair was as neat as he could make it while still fitting the Detective Prince image he’d cultivated, his suit was unwrinkled, his gloves were on his hands, and his features were under control. It was time to perform.

He walked into the room, and Shido was sitting at a desk far too nice for an operation like this. It was solid wood, well built, and beautiful, in a room with decaying drywall and water stained ceiling tiles. But that was how Shido operated. As long as he was secure, everyone around him could sink for all he cared.

“You wanted to see me, Shido-han?” Akechi gave a respectful bow to his superior and held the position. 

“Quite.” Shido ignored Akechi’s continued bow as he spoke down on him. “Your performance with Amamiya and the taxi company was satisfactory. Their stocks have dropped over a thousand percent, and our allies are in place to buy out the company. Control over private transportation is an important part of this plan, after all.”

“Yes, sir.”

Akechi heard Shido’s chair roll out on the floor. “But that is not what I wanted to talk to you about today. There is something far more important on the table.” Akechi’s breath caught in his throat. “The Phantom Thieves.”

Relief. “They seem to be quiet for now.” Akechi said, keeping his tone neutral. “The gap between Kamoshida’s and Madarame’s changes of heart were about a month, so we should expect movement soon.”

“So it seems.” Shido leaned against his desk, but Akechi didn’t dare meet his eyes. Just kept staring at the desk. The man didn’t deserve his reactions. “Madarame was a side venture of a side venture. His loss is miniscule. Kamoshida was a tangent, just one more piece of blackmail to hold over that school’s head.” Shido’s voice grew colder. “But if they continue on this track, it could mean ruin.”

“Yes,” Akechi said. 

“These changes of heart,” Shido started. “They are related to your own ability to twist cognition, aren’t they?”

“I suspect so, Shido-han.”

Shido chuckled humorlessly. “Then I leave this to you. Identify them, and report back to me. Find traces of their movement before the next calling card goes out. We can consider their next target a lost cause, but we will need time to cut financial ties. The paper trail can  _ not _ lead back to us.”

“Yes, sir.”

“From there…” Shido placed a hand on Akechi’s shoulder. “I leave it to you.”

“Yes, sir.” Akechi righted himself and met Shido’s gaze. “Will that be all, sir?”

Shido’s eyes narrowed. “No. There is another thing.” His grip tightened. “Last night, a Tojo Clan lieutenant went berserk during a fight. Ignored broken bones and the like. The cleaning company who disposed of his body were mine, and mentioned tar staining the eyes and mouth.”

Akechi kept his stare even.

Shido scoffed. “I don’t care what you do in your free time. But there are interests in the Tojo Clan, both mine and others. You are not to disturb them any further.” He smiled. “I see you’ve made some friends. Kazama’s boys, right?”

Akechi held his breath.

“I hear one of them’s disgraced now.” Shido said offhand. “It was a shame to hear. Rumor has it they both had some potential. Young, enterprising. Valuable future partners like that don’t come around often. So I pulled a favor or two. I figured a yakuza with one pinkie and a reputation would be more useful than a dead one, after all.”

“Thank you, sir.” The words tasted bitter.

“Don’t forget it.” Shido’s eyes darkened. “Your fame, your wealth, your suits, your privileges to get out of classes and explore the city and work. It’s all thanks to me, and the services you provide me.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Although,” Shido paused. “I got by before. It was messy, it was expensive, but I got by. In a world without you...things would be more difficult, but ultimately, I’d be fine. I wonder where you would be without me.” Akechi tightened a fist behind his back. Shido’s hand dug into his shoulder even tighter. “This is when you answer, Akechi.”

“I’d be nowhere, sir.”

Shido smirked. “Keep up the good work, then. Just to ensure you don’t end up ‘nowhere.’” He cut himself off. “Actually, another thing. Nijima Sae, the prosecutor. She’s an acquaintance of yours, isn’t she?”

“She is, sir.”

“Dissuade her from pursuing Kaneshiro.” He said dismissively. “If not, well. You know exactly what to do, don’t you?”

“...of course, sir.” Akechi nodded. “If that is all—”

“Get out of my office.” Shido waved a hand. Akechi didn’t spend a second in that room longer than he had to. The god damn  _ Request Room. _ It was where only bad news came, bad assignments, priority work. It was where Shido brought him to remind him that he was useful, but expendable, and that if he fucked up he had a hitman on speed dial to take him down.

For the millionth time, Akechi prayed to whatever was out there that he’d find The Cleaner before he outlived his usefulness. Or worse.

His missing eye throbbed. He tapped his hands on his pants legs, clicked his tongue, bounced his knee. Fuck. He needed a payphone. There wasn’t one nearby, not in Shibuya, but there were still one or two in Kichijoji, saved by businesses for their charming aesthetic. A lot of bullshit, but he couldn’t complain. 

He took the train, and he could feel eyes on him. He needed to relax. He checked the Phantom Thieves’ unofficial PhanSite and read through the requests. Dumb boyfriends, mean parents, tough teachers. It was all bullshit. All the struggles of people who’d never struggled a damn day in their life, who didn’t know what it was like to—

The train reached the station and he forced himself to stay seated until the doors opened. Then he stepped out, walking at a socially acceptable and too-slow speed to the payphone he knew was empty. He shut the door behind him, slid the coins into the slot, and punched in a number praying she didn’t pick up.

A click. He held his breath. “Hogushi Kaiken,” A man’s voice blared out from over the phone. “We’re about to close, but if you’re schedulin’ I’ll call my girl right over.”

“Lee.”

Quiet. Then he heard the man shout, “Xiao Qiao! Run down to the pharmacy, grab some cold compresses and a pack of cigarettes!” Another pause. “Sure, why not?” Akechi stayed quiet. He heard the sound of a door slam shut. “You’ve got some nerve to call.”

“I—” Akechi inhaled. “There was a yakuza bigwig here. Was lookin’ into some old cases in Sotenburi. Anyone suspicious recently? People from outta town?”

“...” He could feel the anger from five hundred kilometers away. “No. Just the Omi boys, as far as I could tell. Maybe some punks from one of the disbanded families.” Lee grunted. “What’d you get out of the bastard?”

“He was suspicious. Apparently, the coroner’s retired without contact information, and a dead girl was linked to prime real estate in Kamurocho. Real estate he couldn’t get a decade ago.” Akechi scoffed. “Damn psycho was graspin’ at shadows.”

It went unspoken.  _ He almost caught one. _

“If one can do it, then two can.” Lee’s voice was tense. “I think it’s time I start lookin’ into heading home.”

Akechi’s grip on the phone tightened. “Lee, don’t get jumpy. That’s how we get caught. Ya think these bastards give a fuck about borders?”

“No. But distance helps, anyways. Best to get out of town before they catch our scent.” Lee chuckled bitterly. “If she’d even go, that is. She’s finally comin’ into her own. Ask her to leave, and I might just lose an eye too.”

Akechi smiled, despite himself. “That sounds like her.”

“...Goro.” Lee said slowly.

“No.” Akechi shut him out. “I got a second chance, I whiffed it. She’s still there. She deserves to make it count.”

Lee barked out a laugh. “If she heard that, she’d never forgive you. If she finds out on her own, I doubt she would either.”

“ _ No _ .” Akechi’s voice hardened. “Majima Goro is dead.  _ Lee Zhen Dao _ is dead. And Lee Xiao Qiao is on a fucking clock. If I didn’t have to do this, you know I’d be on a fucking resort in Okinawa, livin’ it up and giving people massages by the beach. But until Shido and his flunkies are gone, we’ll always be lookin’ over our shoulders.”

“We earned that ourselves.” 

“She didn’t.” Suddenly, Akechi remembered why he never called home. It always ended like this. But today… he needed it. “Did you get the money I sent?”

“Always about the fuckin’ money.” Lee said. “Yeah. Came in clear as usual.”

“Good.” Akechi took a deep breath and put on his happy face. “Fuckin’ great. I can breathe easy, knowin’ you’ll be smokin’ worry free!”

“Asshole.”

“You know it!” Akechi said. “It’s why ya don’t have to worry. Ain’t losin’ shit if this doesn’t work out. Just a spoiled brat who never had a damn chance anyways.”

“She’s suspicious.” Lee warned. “I can’t keep this shit from her forever.”

“Six more months, and you won’t have to tell another damn lie in your life.” Akechi promised. “Just get me that, and it’ll all be over. One way or another.”

“And what comes after that?” Akechi couldn’t answer that. Lee scoffed. “You’re a shitty fucking brother, Goro.” Click, dial tone. Akechi held the receiver to his face for a while. He wasn’t sure what kind of expression was frozen on his face, but he knew it wasn’t a good one. He put the phone down.

That night was just another without dinner.

* * *

_ 5th July, 2016 _

Two weeks. Three mental shutdowns. Four nights without dinner. Eight nights without sleep. It wasn’t Akechi’s worst stretch, but it was the worst in a few months. He’d gotten to school a few days, studied a shitton, threw himself into work, and stuff started getting better. Stayin’ busy always helped when shit sucked. 

So far, it was working. No nightmares that night, or the night before. He’d even slept to a reasonable time of five seventeen, instead of wakin’ up at three and bein’ stuck sleepless! That was somethin’ to be excited about, yeah?

...he needed coffee. He remembered a few weeks back that Sae-han was talking about a nice coffee place in Yongen-Jaya. Named somethin’ French. He figured he’d give it a shot, see what was up. Train was empty this early, not even teenage fangirls whispering about him loudly from three feet away. Just complete, total silence.

He practically jumped out of his seat when the train reached the platform, and the moment the doors were open he was out. He searched the back alleys for a few minutes before he finally gave up and asked a cop standing by a streetlight. “You mean Leblanc?” The officer asked. “Head around the next corner, it’ll be right on your left.”

“Thanks, officer-han!” Akechi gave a short, casual bow as he walked off, nearly walking into a lady and her cat. He kept walking till he found the old fashioned place at the corner, with a bunch of flower arrangements outside. He stepped inside.

The man behind the counter had a pretty sharp beard and a receding hairline that still looked pretty damn good. “Good morning.” The man said, looking up from a crossroad puzzle. “Take a seat wherever, I’ll get to you in a moment.”

Akechi nodded and took a seat right at the bar. “Nice place ya got here. Gotta love the old fashioned character.” He knocked on the wooden bar with a grin. “And a nice paintin’ in the corner, too. That must’ve cost you a pretty penny.”

“It was a gift.” The man said with a charming smirk. “Name’s Sakura Sojiro, but everyone ‘round here just calls me Boss. You’re a first timer here, yeah?”

“Got referred.” Akechi leaned back. “Coworker can’t get enough coffee, cuz she loves workin’ till her wrists ache and her eyes sting, and this shit gets her there. Said this is one of the nicer joints in town.”

“Did she now?” Boss shook his head, his smile still intact. “Well, you better take care of that coworker. Can’t be losing a regular to stress, after all.”

Take care of her. Right. Akechi shook it off. “You usually get business this early, Boss?”

“Mostly just the salaried folk.” He shook his head. “I’m here as early as it gets, but you’re the first kid who’s come around this time in a while. Long night?”

“Every night. And while we’re on that, gimme the strongest shit ya got.” Akechi grinned. “Figure I got a long day ahead of me. Might as well go hard all in with this, ya know?”

“Don’t I?” Boss turned to the wall of beans and opened up one of the blends, pouring the beans into a small container and grinding them on the counter. “Let me tell you, though. Most kids your age? They sleep like a rock. I swear, if this guy’s the norm, you kids are doin’ better than I ever was.”

“This guy?” Akechi raised an eyebrow.

Boss shrugged. “He’ll be down in a few minutes for breakfast.”

“Ah, ah, rentin’ the room above a restaurant to a kid?” Akechi exhaled dramatically. “Wish I learned about that offer when I moved to Tokyo! To get a fresh cup every mornin’ on the house? Sounds like heaven.”

Boss gave him a look. “If you were lodging up there, you’d be paying your rent and your coffee in chores. Besides, it’s a temporary arrangement, and then that place converts back to storage forever.”

“Aw,” Akechi drooped over the counter, before he cackled. “If I can’t live here, then I’ll just be here in the mornings for the brew, then.”

Boss chuckled. “You’re a weird kid. But you seem familiar…”

Akechi heard footsteps on stairs. He turned and saw a head of frizzy hair, glasses, and a Shujin uniform, with a cat hanging its head out of a book bag. He blinked, then focused again. The student rubbed his eyes, before he seemed to recognize that somehow, this was actually happening.

“Yo, Akira-chan!” Akechi grinned wide. He stood up and walked over to Akira in two strides —benefits of being tall — and scratched the cat’s chin with a gloved hand. “And that cat of yours, too! Who’s a good cat, a cutey patootie? I bet you are!” 

“I’m not a...cat~” The cat purred, and Akechi’s grin widened.

Boss coughed. “New guy, quit harassing my staff.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist!” He lowered his hand and the cat let out a sound of displeasure. “But it’s been a while, Akira-chan! I can’t believe you’re livin’ it up in the height of luxury like here.” He spread his arms. “You’ve been holdin’ out on me.”

“Funny for you to say that.” Akira-chan stepped around him and sat down at the bar. Boss put a plate of curry down as if it was the most natural breakfast in the world, and Akira started digging in. “We almost ran into you at that darts club, but you didn’t exactly seem in the mood for it.”

“Oh? That doesn’t sound right.” Akechi sat back down, swirling his coffee in its mug. “Last I remember of you was the TV Station. And ya never gave me a call, anyways, so how the hell was I supposed to know.”

“TV Station…” Boss muttered, before his eyes widened. “You’re that Detective Prince guy! The one with the eyepatch!”

“I’d be surprised if I was the one without the eyepatch,” Akechi grumbled. “Especially considerin’ she’s a woman. My hair ain’t that long, is it?”

“What was that, Goromi-chan?” Akira asked. 

Akechi barked out a laugh, and Boss just gave them both a strange look. “You kids just keep getting weirder and weirder.” He said to himself. “Akira, eat your damn food. Trains were messed up last week too, weren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Akira nodded. “No sense risking anything.” 

“What, leaving already?” Akechi whined. “Stay awhile! Take a day off, what’s the harm in that?”

“Sorry, I’ve got a busy day.” Akira winked. “Been working a few jobs, and decided to open up a bank account after school.”

“Oh?” Boss raised an eyebrow. “Give me a call if you need a hand with that. It’s nice to see kids acting all responsible these days.”

“Alright.” Akira stood up. “Nice seeing you again, Akechi. Let me know when you’re free. I’m getting good at darts.”

“Oh?” Akechi chuckled. “I’ll take ya up on that offer any day.” 

The other boy left. Akechi watched his bag rustle as he walked away, and then heard the voice of that yappy cat again. “Getting friendly with the detective, huh? Don’t go giving him hints like that—”

The door slammed shut behind them. Akechi hummed. Hints, eh? A visit to the bank? Suddenly, his afternoon was lookin’ a whole lot clearer. “Good kid ya got there.” Akechi said casually.

Boss shrugged, but his customer service smile was looking a little more genuine now. “He helps out around here, keeps the place clean.” He exhaled. “Kid got a bad hand. But he’s doing pretty well for himself now. Keeping his nose out of trouble.”

“Stayin’ outta trouble, huh? That’s our Akira-chan for you.” Akechi snorted. 

“You’re talking awfully familiar about him,” Boss said slowly.

“If ya wanna make friendly with a guy, ya gotta put heart into it! Gotta act like ya actually like ‘em! I’m just bein’ as honest as I can be!” He told enough lies as it was, after all. He could afford to be open with this shit. “So Akira-chan knows how to make a hell of a cup of Joe, eh? He’s learning from the Boss, after all!”

He left an hour later, stomach full with a hearty curry breakfast and more than enough caffeine in his bloodstream. Damn good food there. No wonder Sae-han dropped by that cafe practically weekly these days. He’d have to request a meetup there in the future. She was the type who was happy to be a regular, befriend the owners, and get an idea of what the situation on the ground looked like.

She was probably the only person she trusted in a government position, out of all the bastards he had to work with. 

“Excuse me, young man!” An elderly man from a shop nearby called. “Do you have a minute? I may need a favor.”

Akechi snapped out of his thoughts, plastered on an idol’s grin, and nodded. “Of course, sir! What is it ya need on this beautiful day?” It was very, very cloudy. But he found people didn’t really contradict a celebrity, so why not play with the truth a little? 

Akechi was never helping an old man deliver a highly requested piece of hardware three blocks again. Three attempts at mugging, a misunderstanding with a police officer, a hitman with an umbrella, and a hostess with an absurdly bad smokers’ voice had stalled the delivery of a single processor to one of the big houses in Yongen by hours. He had work that day, dammit!

When he finally passed the damn thing to the mailman the store owner  _ claimed _ wasn’t willing to pick it up, the guy had the audacity to say that the old man mentioned it the week before but had forgotten to call him about the damn thing! Akechi just thrust the damn package into the man’s arms and washed his hand of the entire thing. What a waste!

Ah, well. He headed to a public library to sit down and crank out some homework for a few hours. His caseload was dry, thanks to a lack of people that needed to die, and he was already done with public services for today. Pocket Circuit was an option...but he didn’t want to lose to  _ Nishiki _ again. The damn guy took to that shit as well as Kiryu did. It was like the yakuza was built to race RC cars.

A detective like him? Never stood a chance.

He kept working till he hit a roadblock. Then he checked the time. Just past noon, still too early. He settled down and got back to work. Damn work felt like an eternity, but he had to get it done anyways. Finally, he glanced at his phone and saw the time — three ‘o clock. He grinned, shoved his books into the bag, and took the train home. He was there just long enough to toss his bag on his futon and get back to Shibuya. There was a diner on Central Street he could sit in, order a drink, till he was sure they wouldn’t see him.

He paid the bill, walked into the single-person bathroom, and entered the keywords into the Metaverse Navigator.  _ Kaneshiro, Shibuya, Bank. _ Reality twisted around him, and he stepped out of the bathroom in his snakeskin jacket. He stepped into the street. The ramp to the flying Bank was already lowered. It only did that for the people who owed him money. Looks like the Phantom Thieves had taken a real risk to ground the guy.

It was nice, seein’ people with some actual guts.

He shook his head. It was a long, tall ramp, and he’d be spotted easily if he took it up. Not that he had much of a choice, though. He passed a crate hidden behind a vending machine on his way, cracking it open and pulling a bat out of it. He kept one in every Palace he scouted, just in case. Then he ran up the ramp after them.

The front doors were boarded up. The dumb pig statue’s secret entrance was wide open, though, and there were some scuff marks on the ground around it. They were in an awful big hurry, weren’t they? He dropped in through the whole, landing in front of a Shadow. It startled, but Akechi swung his bat too fast, crushing the mask and turning the Shadow back into smoke.

The security level didn’t go up, so he just slung his bat back over his shoulder and walked. The next Shadow was looking away from him, preoccupied with something, and the bat swung through it before it even knew what was going on. He just kept walking.

This place was weak. Weak, weak, weak! Damn Shadows were weaker than Shibusawa’s guard, and he tore them to shreds without a Persona. What did they see, lookin’ at him, that they thought they could take him down so easy? 

He stepped into the elevator and headed down to the next floor. There was a broken pot on a pedestal. He grinned. Those things were usually full of the kinda stuff you can pawn for a pretty penny in the real world, and the Shadows respected the place too much to touch ‘em. The Thieves were up ahead. He kept on walking.

Security room was empty. Not many Shadows up ahead, either. The Vault door was wide open, and Akechi couldn’t help but laugh. Man, they were tearin’ through this place! And they were damn quiet about it, too. He figured they’d be walkin’ through brute forcing it, using their numbers to split apart the enemy’s head and scare ‘em into running. But nah, nothing like that. Sneakin’ a group through this shit was pretty damn impressive.

He walked through the money tube and past it, ignoring the counterfeit bills floating down around him. At the end of the hall was the next zone, with the elevators and dozens of security cameras. This spot was never short on Shadows, practically regrowing them as fast as you killed ‘em. He swaggered in, pulling his gun and shooting all the cameras. The Shadows turned to him in shock, before transforming into a few dozen creatures.

They were pathetic, but there were a lot of them. Akechi’s face lit up in savage glee and he charged. He swung, and swung, and they swung too. Blasts of fire and ice and psychological hits. But they didn’t even phase him. An arm wrapped around his neck when he waded too deep, and he grabbed the Shadow, swinging it over his shoulder and slamming his bat down.

He flicked his wrist, bringing it up and knocking another Shadow onto its back. He turned and swung wide, hitting the rest and bouncing his bat off the wall with a massive dent in it. He looked at his bat mournfully. Then he tossed it to the side, threw up his guard, and lunged.

The whole thing took just a few minutes. He hid the bat inside one of the desks in the hallway and kept walking. He stepped into the elevator and took it straight to the bottom, standing at the side. The doors opened, and poked his head out. The hallway was empty, but he heard fighting ahead. He settled into a low crouch and stepped out into the corridor.

The noise was coming from the area just beyond, and he stalked his way over. The room still had Shadows wandering it on one side, while the other was razed to the ground, the pots stripped and the chests plundered. On the floor far below, six figures surrounded a small group of massive Shadows at gunpoint. One of the Shadows tried to stand, and the six figures jumped into the air, landing coiled on the ceiling, the walls, and the pillars. The Shadows outside of the engagement took cover, and Akechi dropped to his stomach.

“It’s time for an all out attack!” A high pitched voice near the right wall cried.  _ The cat? _ Before he could process that the cat was barking orders, they struck. It was impossible to follow how fast they attacked. They bounced off of the walls and ceiling and floor, cutting and bludgeoning the Shadows as they flew past them or simply jumping straight into them and ripping through them. 

The slimmest of the group landed on top of the largest Shadow’s head and thrust his knife down into its head before flipping off and landing in front of it. He adjusted his gloves as the Shadows exploded back into smoke behind him.

“Nice moves, Joker!” The same high pitched voice cheered. Akechi could see the cat-like creature it came from. Definitely the cat. Joker flipped his coat as he turned, and the Phantom Thieves settled back into formation. “I’ve gotta say, that was some good strategizing from you too, Queen! You’ve really gotten the hang of this quickly.”

A girl in bike leathers at the front of the group rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, it’s nothing special. I’m simply keeping track of which elements have been consistent against each kind of Shadow.” She seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite pin down who it was. Eh, he’d know soon enough. “In any case, how is everybody feeling?”

Skull — Ryuji — rotated his shoulder a few times. “I’m feelin’ pretty damn good! You guys think we can finish the Palace tonight?”

“A little quieter, Skull.” Panther, or Ann, groaned. “I’ve got a headache. Joker, you mind if I take the rear guard for a bit?”

“Fine by me.”

Fox simply hummed. “If we finish tonight, perhaps we can all get something to eat together? I’ve been in the mood for soba.”

“...you spent all your money on paint again, didn’t you?” Skull asked. Fox didn’t answer, and Skull slumped over. “You’ve really gotta work on this, man. But hey, I’m down for ramen when this is all over.”

“I think I can make ramen, too.” Queen replied. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone out to eat. Do you know any good ramen places?”

“...but my soba.” Fox said quietly. Akechi scoffed. So the Phantom Thieves were just a group of kids, messin’ around with shit they didn’t get. Why was he not surprised?

“Come on.” Queen marched past Joker into the elevator. “Mona said we’re close to the end already. If we’re efficient, we can send the calling card tomorrow. Then, we can steal the Treasure.” The others followed her into the elevator, and it descended down towards the massive vault where the root of the distortion lay.

Akechi pulled himself to his feet, dusting some dirt off his bare chest. “What, so the calling card isn’t just some cheap trick to get themselves attention?” He sighed, before starting towards the exit. “So these kids might actually know somethin’. Might be a good idea to keep an eye on ‘em.”

And they were acting tomorrow. Shido’s orders were to identify their next target, destroy any links to him, and protect Kaneshiro. Sae-han...didn’t exactly take the whole ‘lay off the mob boss’ thing well. Especially not when he’d set her on the bastard’s trail in the first place. Not the best move.

But now he had a quick way to punch Shido in the throat and get away with it. He just needed to make sure that Shido couldn’t destroy any of the evidence before the police froze it. 

He exited the Metaverse in the alleyway behind the arcade, a little farther than the airsoft store. No one really walked back here except the odd kid trying to buy magazines their mommy wouldn’t want them having from the sketchy vending machine, and no one ever believed the brats when they said “The one eyed detective appeared out of thin air!” It was empty as usual. He leaned against the wall and dialed Sae-han’s number.

It nearly went to voicemail. “Akechi,” she started, “If you tell me to drop this case one more time, I will report you to human resources for harassment.”

“Oh, it ain’t like that at all.” He replied. “Sae-han, you remember those rumors I heard from my classmates? The stuff that put ya back onto the trail?”

“Well, turns out his name’s been goin’ around the tabloid circles.” Akechi grinned. “I had a friend of mine look into it, talk to a reporter. He got us a name. Kaneshiro Junya. Can’t give ya the reporter’s name, of course. Can’t give up a useful source.”

“...why?”

“Hmm?” Akechi frowned. “What do ya mean, why? I’m helpin’ you out, ain’t I?”

“You are.” Sae-han’s voice turned cold. “You also helped me get on this case in the first place. And then you spent two weeks trying to convince me that it was a lost cause. What is going on with you?”

“...I got overexcited, then the leads dried up. I didn’t want ya staking a promotion on a case that was doomed from the start.” There was a bitter taste in his mouth, but he just swallowed it down. It wasn’t a  _ total _ lie, anyways. “Reporter was the last big one. Found out that our mafioso deals mostly in cash, but there’s some evidence of bribery in the police, in the local government. I’d start lookin’ into his receipts, before he gets to erasing the rest of his trail.”

“...” Sae-han sighed. “You are the least reliable detective I’ve ever met, Akechi.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He shrugged. “But I’ve never totally let ya down without at least  _ some _ compensation.”

“Let me give you some advice.” Her tone cut through his amused attitude. “If you want to succeed in this life, then you need to sit down, focus, and stop acting like a child. If you don’t, then stay out of the way of the people who do.”

Ah. It wasn’t unfair of her to think that. Still didn’t make it feel any nicer. “...I’ll be more responsible from here on out.” He promised. “And next time we go out for a work lunch, it’s on me.”

“You’re just gonna take us somewhere cheap.”

“And good!” His grin returned. “I know a guy who knows every damn restaurant in Kamurocho, cheap and expensive! I’m sure he could find a nice, cheap, tasty bowl of noodles for us to talk shop over!”

“...right.” There was a note of amusement in Sae-han’s voice. Akechi’s smile turned less manic and a little more genuine. “In that case, I’ll let you go. I have plenty of receipts to recover now. It might even take me all night.”

“I’m sure you can make it work. If not, I’ll ask the Dojima boys for a favor the next time they try collectin’ protection on me!” He laughed. “Good luck, Sae-han!”

“Wait, they do  _ what— _ ”

He hung up. Now came the fun call. He dialed the number to Shido’s secretary. It rang twice before she picked up — she did that to everyone, at Shido’s suggestion. Made them look more busy. “Representative Shido’s office.”

“Yuriko-chan! You sound as charming as ever!” Akechi laid it on thick. The idol image was damn useful, after all. “Shido-han has been askin’ me to look into a few cases for him. Mind patchin’ me through to him?”

“He is...talking to some of his campaigning staff right now, I will put you through as soon as he’s free.”

“Thank you!” Akechi paused. “Say, you take that vacation you were talkin’ about?”

“Oh, no. I have too much to do around the office, and Representative Shido could always use a hand!” She laughed, but it sounded tense. “It’s no big deal. It’s just part of working for the government!”

“Uh huh.” Akechi coughed. “Well, if ya reconsider, I hear Okinawa’s lovely this time of year! Election isn’t in full swing for a few more months. Might be worth headin’ down for a week, before the work really starts pickin’ up. Get out of the office for a little while.”

“That does sound nice…” Yuriko hummed. “I’ll keep it in mind. The campaign staff is on their way out now. Have a good meeting, Akechi-kun!” 

A click. Akechi held his breath. 

“Tell me you have news.” 

“Plenty.” Akechi said. “Ya said to keep Nijima off the Kaneshiro case, yeah? Couldn’t do it. Woman’s got this far for a reason, I wouldn’t underestimate what she’ll do to get to the top.”

“A pity. She would've been useful.” Shido sighed. “When can you take her out of the picture?”

“We won’t need to.” Akechi hesitated. “The Phantom Thieves are targeting Kaneshiro. He’s goin’ down sometime in the next week.”

“What?!” Akechi’s ear rang as Shido continued. “Dammit all, there’s no way to stop it?!”

“There’s six of ‘em now. I could take ‘em, but they work as a team pretty well. Not sure how it’d turn out.” Akechi inhaled. “Besides, you’ve already got that trap idea for the future still planned, yeah? We need them around for it to work. If we shoot and miss, we miss our shot forever.”

“...When did you get so cautious?” Shido asked.

Akechi chuckled. “The moment my best chance at anonymy died. I go down, you lose your best hitman. You can’t afford that at this juncture.”

“Oh really?”

“TV execs have been talkin’ about expansion, right? But their rivals got them cornered.” Akechi pressed. “That noble wants a promise on that budget before he pledges support, and the representative leading the opposition is well respected. Not to mention those IT guys. They’ve got so many contracts they could employ the entire Tojo Clan.”

“Get to the point.”

“Hmm.” Akechi bit his tongue before he spoke. “Your Cleaner can’t touch half these guys. He’s good for small stuff, people needin’ disappearing, weapons, contraband, laundering. But it ain’t easy to kill someone nowadays, and he can’t touch the Diet. Like it or not, you still need me.”

Shido didn’t say anything. Akechi stayed quiet too. This was delicate, he couldn’t tip the boat too far. Finally, the bastard spoke. “Akechi.”

“Sir.”

“You’d die for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You kill for me. You die for me. You lie for me.” Shido’s voice was restrained, but there was just a little edge in them. “I trust your advice on this. I’ll have my boys sever ties to Kaneshiro’s establishment immediately. Keep an eye on those Phantom Thieves. The IT boys have an idea on how to control them.”

“Yes, sir.” Akechi paused. “Will this be all?”

“If you have nothing else to report, then yes. Nijima lives for now. We can still get some use out of her.” Shido sighed loudly. “Good work today, Akechi.” The line went dead. Akechi slipped his phone back into his pocket. That...went well. Almost perfectly. But he came close to crossing that line, and he couldn’t forget that.

Shido operated on loyalty. Those loyal to him may survive, those against him will fall.  _ He _ was loyal to no one. So to stay safe, Akechi had to be the obedient, irreplaceable mutt that the man thought he was. No one questioned the bloodhound about it’s work. It did its work till it died, and then it was over. And as long as Shido saw him as just that, he was free to stack the deck in his favor.

Hmm. What to do with his evening? Tomorrow, he was gonna get called by Shido. There was no way around it when the Thieves were sending their calling card. After that, he was following the Phantom Thieves back in. He was gonna see what the hell this change of heart looked like in practice. Then he was gonna write down every damn thing about those kids and figure out what he was gonna do about them. If he played his cards right, they could be the perfect distraction. 

Shido was never gonna know what hit him.

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

_10th July, 2016_

_“Yo, Akira-chan!” Kurusu Akira wasn’t sure what to think of Akechi. The guy was just...too strange to try to figure out. First of all, the boy was huge. Not muscular, though he definitely wasn’t weak, but he was abnormally tall. He was head and shoulders taller than Akira, and taller than Yusuke, and he didn’t exactly go out of his way to hide it._

_He naturally stuck out. Tall, wearing eyepatch, always in his beige coat and dress pants, and loud. Akechi didn’t seem to care much about social pleasantries or formalities. He called him_ Akira-chan, _for crying out loud. It was like he didn’t even consider that boundaries could exist._

_“Akechi.” He smiled. How could he not? The dude was a blast to be around, even if he was hunting down him and his friends as his day job, and probably as his night job too. “You sleeping any better?”_

_“Aww, this again?” Akechi shook his head. “Ya can’t ask questions ya won’t like the answer to. It ain’t fair to either of us.”_

_“That’s a no.”_

_“Yeah.” The detective rolled his neck. “So, what’re you up in Kichijoji for today? Food? Shopping?”_

_“Wanted to play some darts.” Akira admitted. “No one’s free, though, so I was just gonna shoot by myself.”_

_“Want some company, then?” Akechi grinned. “Be careful. I’ve got a damn good aim, and I’m not afraid to win, Akira-chan!”_

_“I usually play cooperatively.”_

_“Oh.” Akechi shrugged. “I’m down for that, too. How high we startin’? Seven hundred one?”_

_“I don’t see why not.” Akira nodded his head towards the games club. He smirked. “Don’t go holding me back now.” Akechi cackled. He did that a lot. When he laughed around him, he held nothing back. Akira guessed that meant he trusted him._

_If it weren’t for that glint in his eye, he’d probably trust him too._

* * *

Bullseye, bullseye, and bullseye. Akira-chan smirked, walking back up to the boards and grabbing the three darts. He spun them in his hands before flicking his wrist, one dart between each finger. “Low ton.”

“How cute~.” Akechi plucked the darts from his grip. “So we’re at...five fifty-one, yeah?” He took aim, then threw. Triple twenty. Triple twenty. Triple twenty. He winked at Akira.

Akira-chan rolled his eyes. “You know, winking doesn’t really work for you.”

“Course it does! Ya knew exactly what I was doin’, didn’t ya?” Akechi retrieved the darts and passed them to Akira. “Anyways, you ain’t bad at this. Come here often?”

“Once a week or so.” Akira -chan focused on the target. Bullseye, again. “Some friends and I play it a lot. It helps with getting to know each other a little.” Bullseye. Bullseye.

“Man, you got aim!” Akechi whistled. “Ya weren’t showboating outside at all, were ya?”

His friend shrugged. “I don’t lie about those things.”

“Fine, fine.” Akechi threw again. Triple twenties, again. “Forty one left to zero. Close this out for me, and I’ll believe ya.”

Double twenty, one. Akira-chan smiled. “You’re not so bad at this, either. I wasn’t sure what to expect going in, to be honest.”

“What, my charmin’ looks too much for all this?” Akechi sighed dramatically. “I ain’t _just_ a karaoke and disco king, ya know! I am a refined gentleman.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Akira-chan raised an eyebrow. “You dance disco?”

“You got a problem?”

“No one’s danced disco since the eighties.” He laughed. “I figured you’d do something like breakdancing or hip hop.”

“I do those too.” Akechi cracked his neck. “They call me the Lord of the Night around these parts, ya know. Ain’t nothin’ in Kichijoji I haven’t done!”

“No one calls you that.”

“They will.” Akechi grinned. “Soon as I take the Pocket Circuit crown and get the high score on every damn karaoke machine in Tokyo.” He elbowed Akira-chan in the side. “Besides, it’s a hell of a lot better than this Detective Prince shit.”

Akira-chan just gave him a look.

“Well, if your gonna keep talkin’ like that, I’ll just have to show ya what I’m made of.” He threw an arm around Akira’s shoulders. “What do ya think’s the best way to spend a Sunday night, eh? Karaoke? Pocket Circuit? I can help ya build one, y’know. Friend of mine taught me everything.”

“I should be going. My cat’s gonna be worried.”

“Aww, Morgana?” Akechi shook his head. “Nah, the cat’ll be fine! He can handle himself. So no to karaoke, pocket racer…what do you even do for fun?” Akira-chan shrugged. “Alright, then! I know just the place for a skeptic like you. Just a hop and a skip over to Kamurocho!” 

The train got them there fast, and Akechi pulled his friend up Pink Street towards the north side. “Don’t mind the suit guys,” He said quietly. “They get damn sensitive about a glance. Mostly from me, though.”

“I wonder why.”

“Right?”

They passed the Millennium Tower and kept on heading north. Eventually, they reached what must have been a nice building, a long time ago. There were elephant statues between the pillars, though the gold paint was chipped and faded. A winding staircase to the top looked a little less than safe, and a sign on the door read “Elevator Inside.”

“Akechi?”

“Akira-chan!”

Akira raised his eyebrows. “What is this?”

“Ah! You were talkin’ smack about disco, yeah? So I brought you to the disco crown of Kamurocho. Welcome to Maharaja!” Akechi spread his hands wide. “Or, well, that’s what they called it back in the eighties. I guess it’s just Raja now…”

“You took me...to a disco club.”

“What, did you think I’d be takin’ ya to a hostess club or somethin’?” Akechi scoffed. “I got more tact than that! And this place has no mob connections. Trust me, I checked. It is totally safe to come here with a friend.”

Akira shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it, but I don’t know how to dance disco.”

“Funny thing is, neither do half of these guys.” Akechi clapped his shoulders and walked up the stairs, paying no mind to the creaking metal. “Now come on, let's show them how to disco!” He heard Akira-chan climbing behind him and grinned. 

Inside was much nicer than outside. The dance floor was a mess of bright neon lights, a disco ball hanging high above the dancers’ heads. The DJ booth was just behind it, and the dude always took Akechi’s requests, no matter how bizarre. At the center was a raised platform for the courageous. 

There was a pretty young clientele, and a pretty old one. Lots of families came here, as much as families went _anywhere_ in Kamurocho. The man at the door by the elevator was well dressed in a smart suit. “Yo, Mr. Doorman!” Akechi slapped two thousand-yen notes onto the counter and leaned in. “Two for the night, one for you.”

“O-of course!” The doorman nodded vigorously. “Have a good evening, sir!”

“Thank you kindly!” Akechi spun. “Yo, Akira-chan, I’m pickin’ a song. Mind duelin’ me up there?”

“I came to dance, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.” Akechi grinned, before stalking up to the DJ booth. “DJ! I’m feelin’ old school tonight. Anything to scratch that itch?”

“We got...Koi no DISCO QUEEN, Queen of Passion, I’m Gonna Take Her Home, Friday Night—” The DJ cut himself off as Akechi’s grin widened. “Friday Night, yeah? That’s five hundred.”

“I’ll give ya a thousand, if you start it on my mark.”

“My pleasure.”

Akechi spun around. Akira-chan was standing off to the side watching him. Akechi nodded towards the platform, and his friend smiled. The music cut off, and the dancing stopped. Then, the opening beats started. Akechi stepped up onto the platform, spinning twice. Then he struck a pose, one leg bent and a finger pointed to the skies.

In front of him, Akira-chan matched him, mirroring his bent leg and his sky point. The opening chords faded, and the main beats of the song began, and then they moved. Akechi was the better disco dancer, that was a damn fact. He’d been doin’ this shit since he’d wandered in a year ago. But Akira-chan had a practiced grace, too. More ballet shit than anything, but he somehow made it work here.

Akechi felt the heat of the moment come by him, and he tensed. But one look at Akira-chan and the crowd, and he let it pass. Shit was too good to go blowin’ his bud out of the water like that! He wanted to make this duel _last._

The song faded to an end, and the two boys stood face to face. The admittedly thin audience cheered. “Give it up for our duelists!” The DJ crowed, and the whooping intensified. Akira-chan was smiling wider than Akechi's ever seen him, and he knew the look on his own face was probably pretty manic.

“I thought ya couldn’t dance.”

“I said I couldn’t dance disco.” Akira-chan shot back. “I took gymnastics and dance classes when I was younger. Guess they were more useful than I thought they’d be.”

Akechi shook his head, walking off towards the bar. “If that was the case, I would’ve picked a harder one for ya! Those were the easy beats. Next time, I’m givin’ you a _real_ challenge.”

“You were holding back.”

“Damn straight! Can’t go all out the second a challenger shows up. It’s no damn fun that way!” Akechi turned towards the bartender. “Two waters, yeah? Don’t think I need ID for that.”

“So, what. There’s a hidden challenge mode?” Akira-chan leaned against the bar next to him. “I’m up for the challenge.”

“Not tonight, you ain’t.” Akechi scoffed. “Figure it’s your bedtime, yeah? Ya gotta be up for classes tomorrow.”

“He’s a student?” The bartender asked.

“College.” Akechi lied easily. “Damn idiot picked mornin’ classes on all his days.”

The bartender didn’t look convinced, but slid the two their glasses. Akira-chan grabbed his and took a long sip. “You’re right. Midterms are coming up this week too.”

“Then why the hell did ya come all this way, you idiot?” Akechi sighed. “Man, what the hell’s wrong with you? Slackin’ on studying for disco?”

“What can I say? I’m just a rebel.”

“A regular delinquent, that’s what you are.” Akechi cackled. “You should ask some of these Dojima boys for a job. Guy like you would go far in an organization filled with dumbasses.”

“I’m too hardcore for that.” He finished off his glass with one more sip. “Those yakuza wouldn’t be able to keep up.”

Akechi laughed again, before emptying his glass in one massive gulp. “Well, you’ve gotta be on your way, yeah? I’ll walk ya to the station.” They left Maharaja through the elevator this time. Akechi only wanted to test those stairs once a day, thanks. Then they walked back down south, where the road was a straight, safe shot to the train station. 

“Don’t get mugged on the way back, alright?”

Akechi laughed and walked away. It wasn’t so far from the station to his house. As he got closer, he heard something loud, and a small round of cheers. He slowed down, leaning against the wall to the alley he liived in.

“...Kashiwagi say the rookies are gettin’ a promotion.”

“For killing their own lieutenant?!” Someone barked. He heard the click of a pistol being cocked. “That ain’t how it works in the yakuza, dammit! They listen to the top!”

“Shibusawa was betrayin’ the top, dumbass! They practically pulled the rest of us outta the fire before he got us all fucked. Put that shit away.”

“Doesn’t matter.” The man hissed. “Damn brats don’t get it. The boss says pink is green, it’s green. They broke the fuckin’ code, and got a slap on the wrist.”

“A finger isn’t a slap on the wrist, Takahashi. Let this shit rest, or the dragon's gonna put your head through a wall. You see what he did to the Shibusawa family?”

Akechi perked up. The dragon?

“Kiryu Kazuma ain’t no dragon. He ain’t even half a yakuza.” Takahashi scoffed.

“Dragon of Dojima or not, I’m not fucking with him.” One of the other guys admitted. “And his bro? Dude betrayed the Dojima Family for him. Kid fuckin’ chopped his own finger off for his blood brother. I ain’t fuckin’ with _either_ of them.”

“Then you’re a coward like this guy.” Takahashi shouted. “Spineless pricks like you ain’t got any place in the Dojima Family! Ya want to fuck around like this, go join that bitch Kaneshiro’s mob! I hear they tolerate rats and traitors there, too!”

“You bastard—”

Akechi coughed. He turned the corner to find six guys and a gun pointed his way. “Shouldn’t really be talkin’ this loud out in public like this. You never know who might be passin’ by.”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Takahashi leveled the gun at Akechi’s head. He just stared down the barrel with an unimpressed grimace. “This ain’t got nothin’ to do with you!”

“It does when I live there.” He nodded at the rickety staircase behind them. 

One of the guys pulled a knife. “You’re that detective kid from TV!”

“Oh, so you recognize me?” Akechi hummed. “Thought you guys were too dumb to recognize your own hand.”

“It’s nice to run into you.” Takahashi narrowed his eyes. “Akano and his boys said some dumbass kid with an eyepatch and an ugly coat gave them a rough time the other day. I figure that’s you.”

“Put that thing down, or you’ll be doing more than just hearing.”

Takahashi snarled. “Empty threats like that will get you killed!” His shoulder tensed, and Akechi threw himself to the side. The gun fired and he felt the bullet whiz by his face. Then he was on top of the idiot, one hand closed over his wrist and the other around the guy’s face. He swung his head into a wall. The thug bounced off and he swung his leg in a heavy axe kick at the thug’s head, driving it back into the concrete. The bastard crumpled to the ground a moment later.

He turned to the rest of them. “You gonna give me trouble, too?” They ran. Huh. Usually, they were dumb enough to try their luck. He wasn’t complaining. He could use a little sleep today.

“Dragon of Dojima, eh?” Akechi chuckled. The name wasn’t quite as tacky when it wasn’t being forced down your throat, even if he knew Kiryu had absolutely no taste in anything but food. And Nishikiyama, the loyal brother? Not a bad reputation to have. Somehow, a mark of disgrace turned into a monument of sacrifice. Something told him his buddies were gonna be alright.

Maybe he should tell them to get the Dojima legbreakers to stop loitering in front of his fuckin’ house for a night.

* * *

_13th July, 2016_

He felt weird when he went back to Mementos. After that business with Kaneshiro, he tried to be more careful with his trips. After all, there was a dangerous criminal in the Metaverse! It would be very bad if he were to run into such a thing.

But once he stepped into the entrance of the sprawling maze, he felt some kind of pressure building in the back of his head. Almost like his brain needed to sneeze. Eh. He walked down the stairs. No matter the state of his neuro-sinuses, he had work today.

Technically, he was here for some bouncer who gave Shido a tough time the other day. “Give him a good scare.” Or, lose him his job by having him rage against everyone. Poor Takeuchi. Pissed off the wrong guy, and look at him now.

More importantly, he needed to resume his search. The Cleaner was out there, and after his stunt with Shibusawa a few weeks ago there was no way in hell he was killing the wrong guy again. And now, he had a few more names to work with.

Kuze Daisuke and Awano Hiroki. The other two Dojima Family lieutenants were willing to do just as much as Shibusawa, even if they were a hell of a lot dumber. They weren’t promising leads, but they were the best he had right now. And when the alternative was ‘knock on the family offices of every yakuza on the mainland,’ One-Fingered Kuze and Disco Awano didn’t feel quite as bad.

Shadows were the same as usual. A few hits from his new bat put ‘em in their place easy enough. He always savored that new bat swing. No dents or bends to put a damper on his hits or change the way it landed. Just a nice, new, perfect bat.

Still, it seemed putting Shibusawa’s Shadow down had done him some good. Now, almost all the Shadows he faced would sooner turn and run than try to test their odds. It was boring. But it was also convenient. He made it deeper that day than he had in the past month just from saving his energy.

Takeuchi’s Shadow turned out to be all talk. Lotsa “I’m the strongest” and “I’ll throw you out like the last guy!” Then he went down to three swings of a bat and a throw from Ibaraki. It was kinda pathetic, honestly. Loki drove him mad, and Akechi went on his way. His real targets weren’t far.

Kuze was closer to the surface. His distortion was only a few floors lower than Takeuchi’s, so Akechi got there in a little less than half an hour. The Shadow was sitting on the floor cross-legged, facing away from the entrance. His back was uncovered, displaying the tattoo of Enma emblazoned across it for all to see.

“I was wonderin’ when a visit like this would be coming.” The Shadow rasped. His voice was coarse and rough from a lifetime of chainsmoking. “You’re the one drivin’ everyone off the deep end these days, yeah?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I guess we’ve got nothin’ to talk about.” Kuze stood and turned. His face was wrinkled and hardened. This wasn’t some two bit street thug, or some washed up old bastard. This was a man who was prepared to face anything head on. The hardened face disappeared into a cloud of smoke, and a massive robotic dragon replaced him. “Come at me with everything you’ve got!” Fafnir bellowed.

Ibaraki Douji seared itself into the air behind Akechi, setting his tattoos alight. It swung both hands forward. Fafnir slithered between both blows. Then he struck Ibaraki in the chest hard enough to drive the air out of Akechi’s lungs. He flew back, and Akechi felt the air around him tingle strangely. He rolled out of the way as the air lit up with radiation, scorching the tracks where he just stood.

Akechi flicked his hand forward, and Ibaraki sent a current of hatred racing towards Fafnir. It washed over the Shadow, covering it from view. When the curses dissipated, Fafnir was still standing. His pristine armor was covered in tiny holes and scorched black along the front, but he still stood. “Is that really the best you’ve got, huh?!” Fafnir surged forward, swinging both arms over his head. Ibaraki braced, but it couldn’t prepare it for the crushing double-fisted blow that knocked it to the ground. Fafnir grabbed the prone Persona and threw it back down to the ground.

The tracks cut deep into Ibaraki’s back. Akechi winced, feeling blood sticking to his own jacket. Ibaraki wasn’t gonna cut it here. “Loki!” He called, and Ibaraki faded from view. For a moment, he felt some weird...space, between Loki and Ibaraki. Like something was there. But then Fafnir was bearing down on him and Loki was sitting cross-legged in the air behind him, and he didn’t have the damn time to—

Loki’s sword caught Fafnir’s blow, turning it aside. Then, an explosion of undisputable force threw Fafnir back. Curses erupted from the ground beneath Fafnir, scorching it even further. The dragon’s tail whipped out and slashed Loki’s face. Akechi ignored the thin cut across his brow and urged Loki onwards. His Persona thrust his sword out in a feint, before dropping it and grabbing Fafnir’s arm.

Loki squeezed, and his thin fingers dug into the Shadow’s wrist. He drained the strength from Fafnir, growing stronger and faster as Fafnir began to sag. Then, it kicked Fafnir backwards. The Shadow stumbled before righting himself. “You call that a damn kick?!” The Shadow roared.

Loki laughed. Then it snapped, and another blast of energy enveloped the dragon. Then another. Akechi felt his energy drain as his Persona simply carpet bombed the Shadow with the most powerful spell he had available. Loki finally disappeared with a hollow laugh. Akechi felt drained. He usually did, after using Loki. Miserable fuckin’ Persona.

Kuze’s Shadow was back to its old form. It rested on one knee, glaring up at Akechi with something between derision and respect. Like he wouldn't admit he lost without needin’ to kill the other guy later. “Not bad, brat.” The Shadow forced itself to stand. “You gonna kill me now?”

“Depends. You work with that Shido guy?”

“That politician?” Kuze barked out an ugly laugh. “Son of a bitch like him wishes he could have me. I’d die before I worked with a bastard like him.”

“Hm.” Akechi nodded. “Any idea who might be working for him, then?”

“If anyone is, they’re keepin’ a lid on it.” Kuze narrowed his eyes. “If you’re lookin’ at the Tojo Clan with those eyes, kill me now. Cuz if you don’t, and you come after us, I’ll be the one spilling your brains to the pavement.”

“I don’t care about the Tojo.” Akechi scoffed. “And I’d like to see you try, old man. You ready for round two?”

“...nah. I can tell it won’t mean anything.” Kuze chuckled darkly. “You’re made of the same shit Kiryu is. Old man’s gonna break before either of you brats could, just on merit of my fuckin’ bones.” The Shadow glowed. “Don’t expect to see me again. If you do...better hope you fight as well up there as you do down here.”

Kuze’s Shadow shined even brighter. Akechi put a hand in front of his eyes to block the glare. By the time he put it back down, all that was left of Kuze was a piece of paper on the ground. Akechi left it exactly where it lay. The thing wasn’t his damn business, anyways.

Awano was far deeper into Mementos. He was almost the deepest dive Akechi went after, nestled somewhere near the roots of Mementos. The area he was in was so dark, Akechi couldn’t see more than two feet in front of him, and the Shadows didn’t run away from him anymore. He couldn’t quite sprint through the tunnels crushing everything around him, but he did a damn good job trying.

By the time he reached Awano’s distortion, he was bloody, bruised, and tired. Still, a job’s a job. He walked right in, both his knife and bat in hand. He doubted this would be as painless as Kuze.

Akechi wasn’t sure what to expect from Awano. From what he heard, the guy only cared about money and the easy way out. He expected someone lookin’ like Kaneshiro, fat on excess and without much more about him besides that. Guys like that usually had the sleaziest Shadows, too. He’d know, from how often he scouted Shido’s Palace. 

He didn’t expect to find Awano’s Shadow at the center of a brawl.

Oni, Kaguya, Yoshitsune, Sandalphon, Abbadon, and other Shadows Akechi had never even _seen_ had the guy surrounded. He was as tall as Akechi was, and like Kuze, had no shirt on. His fists were in a loose fighting stance, one held by his face and the other down by his leg. But what surprised Akechi most was the savage grin on his face.

The Oni struck first, swinging its club down at Awano’s head. Awano ducked and stepped underneath the Oni, smashing its legs aside with a kick to the knees. Then his fist came down like a piledriver, smashing the Oni’s head into the ground. The Shadow faded back into nothing.

Yoshitsune slashed with both swords, and Awano slid around the blow. Then he grabbed Yoshitsune around the waist and swung him down into the ground. He rolled to his feet, then flipped sideways, smashing his foot into Yoshitsune back with the weight of his entire body behind it. He, too, faded to nothing.

Abbadon opened its mouth, and the ground shook, crushing the other Shadows into nothing. Awano just stood there, absorbing the impact through his legs with the same manic grin. Abbadon stalled, and Awano slid through the opening. He jumped straight into the Shadow’s mouth and tore his way out the back, leaving only a trail of smoke where his massive enemy stood before.

He was facing away from Akechi. The tattoo on his back — Momotaro slaying an Oni — was in clear view. After seeing what the man’s Shadow did to the Oni Shadow, it felt especially apt. “C’mon!” Awano’s Shadow taunted. “Pain in the ass bastards like you...I’ll pulp all of ‘em!”

Akechi stepped forward. “Y’know, I got a different picture of you from the way people talk.” He said, dragging his bat along the side of a rail. “Way it sounded was that you were just another rich bastard that Kaneshiro wanted to be.” He stopped, slinging his bat back over his shoulder. “But you’ve got moves, Awano.”

“You’re the brat that torched Kuze, aren’t ya?” Awano grinned lopsidedly. The man was bulky everywhere, but he still hopped on his toes like a lightweight boxer. “Figured you’d be comin’ for me next.”

“Just got a few questions for now.”

“Questions I ain’t answerin’. Now, you gonna summon that weak ass demon of yours, or are you gonna fight me like a man?”

Akechi’s instincts lit up, and he weaved his head to the side. A heavy fist glanced off his cheek. He barely had time to react to the first punch when an uppercut came from below. He threw his head back and the punch missed his chin, skating up past his vision. Akechi dropped his bat and jabbed two fingers into Awano’s side. 

The Shadow flinched and fell back, covering his retreat with a hooked grab. Akechi slipped through, slicing at Awano’s face with his knife. An iron grip wrapped around Akechi’s wrist and a finger jabbed into the crook of his elbow. He cried out and dropped his knife. Awano twisted his arm back around and threw a hook punch at his face. Akechi deflected the hit with his uninjured hand and elbowed the Shadow in the face.

Awano’s head snapped back, and Akechi tried to push him off. Awano’s hands grabbed onto Akechi’s shoulders. Then he pulled him down into a knee. Akechi folded, gasping for breath, and Awano threw him to the ground. Akechi’s vision blurred.

Then a fist was coming down towards his face and he twisted, ducking out of the way by a hair. Awano’s fist hit the floor and the concrete cracked and cratered. Akechi stared at the impact for a second. Then he rolled onto his shoulder and hand and kicked Awano hard in the face with both legs. Awano staggered back. He closed one nostril with a finger and snorted. A small spray of blood hit the ground at his feet. “That’s more like it!” He bellowed, running in for another hit.

Akechi parried the hit. Then he ducked around Awano and chopped him in the back of the neck. Awano staggered, and Akechi grabbed him at the collar. Awano shoved him off and Akechi spun, swinging a foot up and kicking Awano in the side of the head. His enemy hit the ground, but was back up in an instant.

Akechi scoffed. This was one tough bastard, and he hadn’t even shown his true colors. If he brought out his Persona, there was no way in hell he was takin’ this guy down. Not in the state he was in. He threw a hook at Awano. The Shadow grabbed his arm and pulled Akechi off balance, before slamming his forehead into Akechi’s.

Alright. No more fuckin’ around. Akechi’s fingers curled around Awano’s hair and he smashed his forehead into the Shadow’s nose. Then, he dropped and kicked, knocking Awano off balance. He switched his stance, balancing on one hand to deliver a sharp two-legged kick to Awano’s good leg while he was still teetering and knocking him to the ground. He ended it with a flip, swinging his foot down onto Awano’s chest and driving him to the ground.

Awano coughed on impact, but Akechi wasn’t done. He grabbed Awano’s leg and drove an elbow into where the Shadow’s fibula would be. Awano kicked him off. Akechi let him, staggering over to his bat. Awano wasn’t even on both feet when Akechi slugged him in the side, knocking him back down. Akechi swung one more time, but Awano grabbed the bat and threw it aside.

Akechi responded to that with an axe kick. Awano’s eyes widened. Then they disappeared under the sole of his shoe. His head cracked against the ground. Akechi leaned a little on the Shadow’s face. Satisfied it was over, he staggered back, picking up his knife and bat from where they lay on the ground.

“Ya got some kick.” Behind him, Awano dragged himself into a sitting position. “Could use a bastard like you. Lookin’ to swear an oath?”

“Just have questions.” Akechi replied. 

Awano’s Shadow laughed. “Well, ya definitely earned some answers. Haven’t had a scuffle like that in a damn long time! Whadaya got?”

Akechi paced, keeping his bat at the ready. “Lookin’ for the bastard who took my eye.” It was a reasonable thing to say. No one really second guessed the ‘eye revenge’ motivation when he dropped it. “He’s yakuza. No clue about anything else, except he’s got reach in Osaka.”

“Hate to tell ya, but you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.” Awano scoffed. “Anything in Osaka’s in Osaka. Guy you’re lookin’ for gotta be some Omi prick.”

“Osaka was a one off. He does his business here in Tokyo mostly. Workin’ with a bastard politician. Ya hear anything about that?”

“I guess you fight better than you think.” Awano laughed. “All yakuza work with crooked politicians, crooked cops. It’s half the fuckin’ job.”

“Shido.”

Awano stopped laughing. “That’s a big fuckin’ name that just came out of your mouth, you know that?”

“You know who works for him?”

“Fuck no. Tried to set an account with him, got turned away at the door. Wish it were me. That’s some big fuckin’ money right there.” Awano smiled. “I’d take your other eye for that damn account.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t.” Akechi snarled.

“If I did, you’d come after me. Then you’d be fucked.” Awano exhaled. “Ain’t no guarantee it’s Tojo, anyways. Kaneshiro’s guys had some hitmen with them. And it ain’t like Kamurocho’s secure these days. Or even the Clan.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dojima family’s gettin’ some shit from some foreigners. Snake Flower Triad down south. Jingweon fucks springing up around town.” Awano shook his head ruefully. “Hell, I hear some Omi boys been scoutin’ around town lately, all the way from Kansai. And some of these guys got links to Tojo officers. Blood brothers and business partners.”

“Who gives a fuck?”

“You do. You just don’t know it yet.” 

Akechi slammed his bat down against one of the rails. The noise echoed off the stone walls. He lunged for Awano, placing the knife against the Shadow’s throat. “This cryptic shit? I ain’t exactly a fan, and I’m sure some of your buddies got the same shit you know for cheaper.” He tightened his grip on the blade. “Now, why shouldn’t I give you a nice little shave?”

“Cuz I’m the only source ya got.” Awano grabbed Akechi’s wrist. He squeezed, and Akechi felt the bones in his arm scream. “And cuz you haven’t beaten me. You think that little scuffle was a fight? That shit was barely a warmup.”

“You bastard—”

Awano shoved him back. Akechi settled back into a fighting stance, coiled like a snake. Awano stood up, a serious look on his face. “If ya want more outta me, you gotta beat me for real. But if ya try now, we both know how it ends.”

“...”

“Don’t worry.” Awano smiled. “I’ll wait. And if you don’t wanna die down here, find me up above and make a damn oath.” He placed a hand on Akechi’s shoulder. He didn’t even notice him move. “You’ll get everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Akechi shook him off. “Next time I’m down here, you’re fucked.” He warned. Like some posturing was gonna make this any better. He thought this guy was just gonna be another rich prick, but somehow he was even worse. A rich prick with a stone fuckin’ jaw, and a piledriver for a fist. 

Even as he left the labyrinth of human’s cognition, he swore he could hear Awano’s laugh echoing behind him. Laughing at him running like a scared puppy. Akechi grit his teeth. 

He hated the Dojima Family. He really, really did.


	10. Chapter 10

_ 17th July, 2016 _

Sae-han had a very particular stance on places to meet. Professionality and appropriate behavior was a high priority for her, and she held the people around her to the same standard. Lunch meetings were acceptable. Dinner meetings were acceptable. She refused to compromise past that. She drew the line that her time was important, and she wasn’t gonna mess around with some jackass tryin’ to get one over her.

Celebration was a little different. The year before, Sae-han took down a Tojo offshoot trying to worm its way into Shibuya, shooting her up the ranks into the Special Investigation Unit. Sae-han took Nijima out for dinner that night. Nothin’ expensive, with how expenses were before the promotion. Then they went to a karaoke club for a while and got home late. Sae-Han even let Nijima skip school the next day, with how late they got back. She couldn’t skip work, so she simply got back down to the grind, and she hadn’t had a day off since.

Akechi remembered her talkin’ about it. It was one of the few times she seemed legitimately happy about something that had nothing to do with work or promotion or ruining some poor drug trafficker’s life. At that moment, she was just talking about how much she loved her sister. It said a lot about her, even if a lot changed since then.

Unfortunately for Sae-han, it also told Akechi about how she loved karaoke.

“No.”

“No?!”

“No. Makoto is busy. She doesn’t have time for this drivel.” Sae-han glared at the sign.  _ Karaokeken Party Night! 50% off parties of three or more. _ “And I’ve heard you sing once. That was one too many times.”

“Aww, come on, Sae-han!” Akechi whined. “It’s a celebration! Call her up, at least, I’m sure she’d love to hang out!”

“Midterms just finished for her. She’s going to be stressed about her results, and this is only going to make things worse.” Sae-han turned her glare to him. “And there is nothing to celebrate.”

“Of course there is!” Akechi grinned. “Sure, the Phantom Thieves stole our thunder on the whole ‘snapping up the crook’ deal. But you caught the paper trail yourself, didn’t ya? Bagged at least twenty guys guys down at the precinct, and we’re still sortin’ through everything!”

Sae-han’s glare intensified, but he didn’t budge. It was the truth, after all. Sure, Kaneshiro turned himself in. Prosecuting him didn’t bring much glory. But his testimonies, combined with the papers she found? Half of his mafia was in custody, and their police contacts and buddies were all being rooted.

The first damn guy they caught was the chief. Akechi sure was glad he didn’t trust the guy with anything but some signed paperwork on his desk. His instincts were on the ball, as usual.

“So, what? We celebrate the betrayal of our own officers?”

“Nah, we celebrate the whistleblower, and the cleanin’ up of our offices! All thanks to Clanbreaker Nijima!” He leaned against the wall. “There’s a damn good Korean place just a walk away. And I promised it’d be my treat, didn’t I?”

Sae-han just gave him a dull look, before she whipped out her phone. Akechi’s grin grew even wider when she didn’t text, but dialed in a number. 

“Makoto. Yes, I know you have a big day tomorrow, but…” She trailed off. “Something good happened at work. It’s not as big as that promotion last year, but it was still pretty good. I stayed late and I was talking to Akechi and I was thinking...maybe...we should celebrate.” A beat. “We’re at Karaokeken in Shibuya. It’s not far from the apartment. No, we’ll wait outside. See you.” Sae-han put her phone down with an exhale.

“So she’s comin’?”

“You are impossible, you know that?”

Akechi just shrugged. “Eh.” He’d promised to look out for her. Even if that just meant one dumb night on the town. “If ya keep goin’ all work no play, you’ll end up fuglier than your damn boss.”

“Akechi.”

“If he went swimming, scientists would think there was a second Marianas Trench on his forehead.” Akechi snorted. “And a second, and a third.”

“Are you being more irreverent than usual, or is that just me?” She asked. “It’s not too late for me to call it off.”

Akechi shut up.

Nijima showed up maybe ten minutes later. She was a little out of breath, and her braid-headband thing was a little bit uneven. “I’m here, Sis.” She looked at Akechi. “Akechi-kun. I have to admit, it’s...good to see you.”

“Pleasure’s mine, Nijima-chan!” Akechi grinned. “Ya ready to sing your damn heart out? This place got the best selection, ya know!”

“...” Nijima exhaled. “And back to reality.”

“Sorry, Makoto.” Sae-han gave Akechi a stern look. He met it with a wink. “He insisted on paying, so we’re stuck with him.”

“Stuck?!”

“How unfortunate.” Nijima mouth quirked. “But if that’s the price we have to pay…”

“It’s better than the fifteen hundred at the door, ain’t it?!” Sae-han turned away from Akechi. “Eh? Sae-han? Nijima-chan?”

Nijima looked away, not quite fast enough for him to miss the smile on her face. “We should head in. Who knows how busy this place might be?” She walked in first, and Sae-han entered without meeting his eyes either. He gaped.

They were fucking with him. Them. The Nijimas. He shook his head. He never thought he’d see the day, but here he was, lookin’ like a fool on the side of the road. He felt proud of ‘em. He also felt stupid, so he walked inside, fishing the yen out of his pocket and slapping it onto the counter. “Room for three, yeah?”

“Yes, sir. You have an hour.” The attendant handed him a key with a room number on it.

“Great! C’mon, girls.” He stood straight and swung the key around one finger. “An hour’s not long for this stuff, y’know! We’re gonna work down the whole damn list today!” 

The rooms at Karaokeken were super comfortable. There was a big couch, a little couch, the jukebox, a nice rug, and plenty of soundproofing to save you from the people next door. Akechi collapsed onto the smaller couch, legs spread and arms sling over the back of it. Sae-han and Nijima just gave him the same look they always did whenever he sat anywhere and went to the big couch. 

Akechi opened his mouth to speak, but Sae-han immediately cut him off. “No. You’re not singing first.”

“Why not?!”

“It’s too early in the evening for hyena howls.” She jabbed. He laughed. “Makoto, do you want to go first?”

“I wouldn’t mind letting Akechi-kun go first.” Nijima swallowed. “But if he’s that bad, I’ll do it.”

“He is.”

“I am not!”

Both sisters gave him a look, and he just sunk deeper into his chair. Nijima cleared her throat and walked over to the machine. “No...no...maybe...yes!” The music started. Akechi didn’t quite recognize the heavy drums and rock sound. For some reason, the heavy music seemed to fit her, even if Nijima Makoto-chan was nowhere close to the image of an ideal metal head.

_ “Midnight Shadow,” _ She sang in perfect English. Her voice was at the right range, surprisingly. It sounded like a song for a dude’s range, but she was killing it.

It was a beautiful song, honestly. It was about a man deeply in love with a troubled woman. He showers her in affection, makes it clear how much he loves her, wishes he could take away her pain so they could live together, all strung together with dumb machismo and heavy guitar.

It suited Nijima. Dorky as hell, but in an honest way, so it almost wrapped back around into being cool.  _ “Machine Gun KISS de Just Fall in Looooooove!”  _ She belted the final words out, pulling the mic in close to her face before tearing it away as the song came to a close. She flushed a little at the enthusiastic applause from her companions. A number popped up on the machine’s screen:  _ 970/1000 _ . 

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a Karaoke Queen, eh, Sae-han?” Akechi cackled. “That was some damn good singing! Never thought Sae-han’s adorable little sister could bust out the pipes like that!”

“Stop that.” Sae-han scolded. “You’ll embarrass her.”

“It’s fine, Sis.” Nijima laughed. “Our father used to take us to karaoke as a family. We’ve always been a little...competitive, once we get going.”

“I don’t remember it quite going that way.” The older sister stifled a smirk. “I remember you and Dad always trying to beat me and getting upset when you failed.”

“I-it wasn’t like that at all!” 

“Very well.” Sae-han walked over to the karaoke machine. “In that case, I’ll just blow your score out of the water. You wouldn’t have a problem with that, would you?” Her sister hid a wince. “And what better song for that than this?”

Techno beats marked the start of the song. It had a heavy pulse and all synthetics. Akechi raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t heard this one before. He glanced at Nijima. She was just staring with a slightly glassy expression. 

Then Sae-han started singing. The song was some...peppy, idol shit. No wonder he didn’t know it. Was this the kinda stuff that Sae-han listened to? The lyrics were...not that bad. It was about taking control of your life, moving up in the world, all that nice shit. And Sae-han was  _ good. _ She was really good. She was really damn good at singing idol songs about climbing the ranks to dunk on her sister at karaoke.

Why did none of this feel out of character?

“Get to the top!” She belted out, dancing along to the music until it resolved in a few heavy chords. She lowered the microphone with a smile at Nijima’s and Akechi’s whoops, before staring at the karaoke machine as the numbers flashed.  _ 970/1000. _ “Looks like we got the same, Sis.” 

“Yeah,” Sae-han said, sitting back down. “You’ve gotten better. And I suppose I’ve been neglecting this in favor of work. It’s only natural that we’re on the same level now.”

“Sae-han admitting defeat? Am I asleep?” Akechi stood up and made a show of rolling his shoulders and neck. “If that’s it, I want a million yen. And a bottle of liquid gold.”

“Akechi.” She sighed. “Thank you for at least not screeching in the middle of the song this time. Your restraint is appreciated.”

“Restraint? I was just savin’ my voice. It’s a special occasion, I’ve gotta go all out!”

“...Akechi, why?” It was more of a statement than a question. A declaration of disapproval. She knew damn well why he was the way he was. It’s cuz this was the fun way to live.

He walked up to the machine and tapped through the selection. 24 Hour Cinderella was great, but he’d sung it too much! As Long As You’re Happy, too sad. Pride through Despair, too...eh. Not quite his style. Baka Mitai and Judgement were Kiryu’s and Nishiki’s songs, he didn’t have much right to sing ‘em. He couldn’t sing ‘em like they did anyways.

Something caught his eye, a remix of the song Sae-han just sang. His eye narrowed. He didn’t know the lyrics, true. He didn’t know the key. Didn’t know the pitch. Didn’t know anything but what he just heard.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t just have fun with it, did it?

_ “Let’s get to the top!”  _ He shrieked. 

He sang like an angel. No one had ever sang this song the way he did. He could see the awe on Nijima’s and Sae-han’s faces, the admiration for his experimental pitch modulation and dancing prowess. Sure, he didn’t quite know all the lyrics, but his passion more than made up for that. He closed it out with a mighty cry,  _ “GET TO THE TOP!”  _ Then he took it a step further, falling back on his disco skills to deliver a wonderful idol’s conclusion to his masterpiece.

The Nijima sisters looked like they just saw an angel, or maybe the devil. They were one and the same, after all. His grin grew. “So? How did I do, Sae-han? Nijima-chan~?”

The monitor on the karaoke machine finally displayed his score.  _ 980/1000.  _ Sae-han stared in horror, before her gaze snapped back to the unfortunate sponsor of this night. “What the  _ hell?!” _

* * *

The food was delicious, Akechi thought as he cut himself another bite of premium grade sirloin. He finished chewing. Then he took a quick sip of water. He placed his fork back down. “So, Nijima-chan, I heard ya got pretty damn high on the mock exams. What was it...sixteenth in Japan?”

“Seventeenth, actually.” She said from across the booth. “I did better on a regional level, but I suppose seventeenth is satisfactory.”

“Suppose? Seventeenth is phenomenal.” Sae-han threw an arm around her sister. Nijima stiffened, before leaning into the hug. “You worked hard, and these were only the mock exams. I’m sure many universities already have their eyes on you.”

“You may be right.” Nijima still sounded a bit unsure. Akechi exhaled. This was a celebration! There wasn’t gonna be any misery going on here. 

“Ya know, I heard there’s a fireworks festival in Shibuya tomorrow.” He piped up. “You two hear anything about it?”

“I have.” Sae-han said. “But unfortunately, I have to get back to work by then. You do too, right?”

“Not tomorrow. But the next day? Interviews.” He made a face. “Always more damn interviews.”

“I thought that you would be the type to like interviews.” Nijima chuckled. “You seem to enjoy being the center of attention, after all.”

“Nah, they suck the life right outta ya. There’s a difference between inspiring someone’s first swear word at karaoke and makin’ up excuses not to tell the public why your eye is out.”

“Oh.”

Akechi shrugged. “But I do get to make some wild ones up on the spot. Told some guy on some newspaper that it was running with scissors, and he ran with it. Next guy who asked got a gas explosion. Third guy got ‘it looks cool.’ Eventually they took the damn hint.”

“I didn’t realize the media was so invasive.”

“They’re bloodhounds with these things.” Sae-han grimaced. “Dealing with the media is always a pain. How you stomach this faux-idol persona, I have no idea.”

“It’s just another part of the job. Ain’t worse than walking onto a grisly crime scene, and it gives me a good net of sources to work with. Plus, plenty of work.” Akechi took another bite. “Hell, helpin’ out fans makes the days a little better sometimes, even if they’re a major pain in the ass.”

“It’s a wonder you have so many, as crass as you are.” Sae-han jabbed.

“You’re one to talk. I heard some foul things outta your mouth today, Sae-han! I didn’t know the proper prosecutor had it in her!” He clicked his tongue. “I guess ya never really know a person.”

“Akechi, you know that was completely called for.”

“You usually don’t talk like that at all, though. Not even when a case goes sideways.” Nijima smiled. “It’s surprising to hear you talk like that.”

“Says the girl who loves yakuza movies.”

“I-I do not!”

“Oh really?” It was Sae-han’s turn to smile. “Then what was that trailer you were showing me the other day?  _ Like a Dragon, _ or something like that?”

“That’s just because the director is famous! He’s done a lot of good movies in the past and I’m sure this work will live up to his legacy!” Nijima caught Akechi’s eye, as if begging for some help with her evil sister.

He looked away.

She shot a betrayed look at him that he very successfully ignored, before glaring a hole into her plate. Sae-han looked at him, before chuckling and returning to her food. He shrugged. He tried to help Nijima, he really did, but she just dug that hole deeper and deeper. At some point ya gotta just admit defeat. And she didn’t look  _ really _ pissed, so everything was just fine.

Sae-han cleared her throat. “So, we have the karaoke shrieker, a future yakuza chairman, and the prosecutor who  _ allegedly _ said something foul, once.” Akechi snorted. “It seems like the night makes miscreants of us all.”

“I dunno, sis.” Nijima exhaled dramatically. “I think you’re just a bad influence on us.”

“What?”

“I gotta agree.” Akechi nodded. “When I started the job, I was just a mild mannered kid, lookin’ to do some good in the world! Now that I’ve met Nijima Sae-han, I’ve changed. Hangin’ round yakuza, collectin’ debts, doin’ errands for everyone I see, bein’ idolized on live TV.”

“So much potential, snuffed out.” Nijima pressed her lips together. “How could you do something so terrible, sis? We trusted you.”

“You’re  _ both _ impossible.” She scoffed. “Akechi, the first thing you did when we met was ask me to buy you a burger.”

“Young, impressionable, broke me.” He lamented. “Ya can’t go after a fifteen year old for bein’ hungry, Sae-han! I still had another ten centimeters to grow!”

“I can blame him for his manners, and I will gladly.” She took a sip of her drink. “I’ll blame him till I’ve retired. Then I’ll blame him a while longer.”

He grinned. “Aww, you’d remember me that long?”

“Don’t bet on it.”

“So harsh, so harsh!” Akechi laughed. “I guess ya wouldn’t be Sae-han without it, though, would ya?”

“Laugh it up.” She grumbled without any real feeling behind it. “Tomorrow we’re back to the grind. If you can understand that, then tonight’s fine.”

“Oh?” Akechi frowned. “Shit. I got tomorrow off.”

“...”

“Fireworks only come once a year, y’know.” 

“I’m sick of you tonight.” Sae-han announced. “Makoto, how's the food coming along?”

“I finished a little bit ago, sis.” Nijima said quietly. “I’ve just been waiting on you two.”

“How rude of us.” Sae-han took the final bit of her food. “In that case, we should be off.”

“Sis?”

“Relax.” Sae-han smiled. “He’s right. Fireworks only come around this time of year, and you’ve got plans. I’ve kept you out too late as it is.”

“It’s not that late! It’s only... _ oh my.”  _ Nijima paled.

Sae-han shook her head. “You sleeping any better lately, Akechi?”

“Not at all!”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if we head out early? I have to be in the office at eight.” 

“Knock yourself out. I still got the rest of this thing to scarf down, anyways.” He faked a yawn. “I’ll call ya tomorrow, yeah? We’ll figure out somethin’ with those leads of yours.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“Take care, Akechi.” Nijima said.  _ Thanks for looking out for her, _ she didn’t say. He heard it anyway. He waved goodbye. It was rude to talk with a full mouth, after all. They were good people. A little uptight, sure, and a bit legalist. But good people. He was lucky to have people like them around. Hardworking, smart people who knew what was right and wrong and fought for it tooth and nail. 

Nothin’ was forever, but he was glad this managed to stick as long as it did. He checked the time. Four somethin’ in the morning, his eye stung too much to really make out the last of it. He scoffed. He was really gonna spend his mornin’ sleeping. It was like he was a normal student for once.

* * *

_ 18th July, 2016 _

It felt like he just put his head down, but the festival was in an hour and he still hadn’t called Sae-han. He didn’t feel like it. He didn’t. She could wait a few more hours, right? With the headache he had, no way he was sayin’ anything coherent for a while anyways. He pushed himself up. That was a late night, even for him. He didn’t get back till….five? He finally got enough sleep, but if this was what ‘well rested’ felt like he’d take sleep deprived any day.

He dragged himself to his feet. The bathroom was just a shuffle away, and he splashed the water onto his face. He blinked hard. “Cold.” He shook it off, stepped out, and grabbed his suit. Might as well look nice for the festival, yeah? His rep as a community idol would tank if he didn’t play the part, but he didn’t have any of that fancy traditional shit to wear. 

Damn shame. He’d make it look good.

Eh, it didn’t matter. He grabbed some Big Bang Burger on the way back. Part of him wondered why he ate there all the time, when he knew the owner was a sexist, over-ambitious son of a bitch. Then again, most people at the top of these things were, and Big Bang was cheap. And tasty. They had the best fries.

Okumura could go to hell, but if Akechi was meeting him there, he was takin’ a few fries to go.

He tossed a few in his mouth. He felt like...he was forgetting something. It was like an itch at the back of his head. Just wouldn’t leave his damn head. He blinked hard twice and shook it off. If it came to him, it came to him. If not, it prolly didn’t matter.

He took the train to Shibuya, hoppin’ out at the station. He got off and headed for a nice spot away from everyone. Urban fireworks were a pain in the ass, but there was definitely a nice spot to sit away from the crowds. Maybe he could let a paparazzi take a nice profile shot, too. The press loved that shit.

He scoffed. “Now I’m talkin’ like some kinda executive freak.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked, face angled towards the sky. If he still smoked, this’d be when he fished a cig out and gave it a light. Just a nice moment of relief. But teenage celebrities don’t smoke, not even detectives. He had to kick the habit some odd years ago.

He didn’t really miss it. But it was a nice look. 

He walked for a little while. He was still a little early, after all. He could afford it. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. Sae-han always called, and he wasn’t in the mood to bother with anyone else today. He just kept walking.

It was almost funny. Akechi hadn’t been to a fireworks display with someone in a long time. Sure, he went with someone important now and then, as a work thing. But that didn’t count, not for a long shot. The last time he went with someone who gave a shit about him was before he left home. 

...had it already been three years? It almost didn’t feel real, but if that wasn’t, what was? He wondered how they were holding up. Then he let the concern fade away and kept walking.

He found a nice staircase. It faced the fireworks display, just high enough to see over some of the buildings. He took a seat and watched. The first few were a little more than a couple charming lights, but the next was a damn nice display. He watched with a smile.

Then a nice, fat drop of water hit him right in the eye. Another hit his hand. Another, his arm. A mom ushered her kid down the stairs past him. The water flowed down the steps and into his shoes and pants. He didn’t get up. It was almost nice. Maybe everyone needed to stop in the rain sometime. Sit on the stairs, get rain all over their pants. Fill their shoes and socks with water. Let it hit their hair and make it stick to their head and neck and face. Remind them they weren’t shit, really, that no one was.

His phone buzzed a few times. He tore it out of his pocket and looked. Two messages from Shido, four from some techies.  _ Check the website, _ they all read. He exhaled. That shit was today? He didn’t need to waste his time with that. He sent all of them an identical “alright,” before putting it back in his pocket. He stood up. The moment was dead, anyways. He’d head home and get to work.

He walked inside, pulled his shoes off, pulled his socks off, went into the bathroom. He left the wet clothes hanging in the shower and changed into dry ones. Then he sat against the wall and dialed Sae-han’s contact. She picked up on the first ring.

“How were the fireworks?”

“Rained out. Got a nice swim in the alley, though.”

“It’s raining?” She paused. “I...didn’t notice, with all the paperwork. I’ll have to call Makoto after this.”

“Yeah.” Akechi frowned. How much shit was she goin’ through if she didn’t even notice the rain? Didn’t her office have a window. “You’re outta the office?”

“I’m at the police headquarters.” She confirmed. “I’ve been digging into old records. No real leads, yet, but a name’s come up a few times. The report on her death is here, anyways.”

“What’s some dead lady got to do with this?”

“It’s that researcher I told you about back in June. Isshiki.” Akechi grit his teeth. “Her suicide report seems...suspect. It claims that she hated her daughter. Had some form of maternal depression. But I found a few testimonies from her coworkers, and they all claim she loved her daughter a lot.”

“It ain’t like feelings don’t conflict.” Akechi’s tongue felt like lead. Why this? Why  _ again? _

Sae-han continued regardless. “Still. The claims also cite that she worked harder than anyone on all this. That she never let her status as a mother inhibit her work as a scientist.”

“People hide messed up shit all the time, Sae-han.”

“Maybe.” She admitted. “In any case, I was hoping her research may be here. They should be. The folder’s stretched to the point it should hold more files. But it’s just...not there. I don’t trust it.”

Where the hell Shido got all his amateurs, Akechi had no idea. Was he the only damn one who knew to cover his tracks?!

“I did find a reference the other day. A peer who worked on similar research at the University of Tokyo.” Wait, what? Isshiki wasn’t the only one? “But his papers weren’t in the archives, nor were they saved on the databases. Even the journal editions that carried his theses were out of print.”

“Huh.” Akechi frowned. This did sound wrong. “How the hell did you find his name, then, anyways?”

“One of the testimonies mentions a paper Isshiki used to form the foundation of her research. The actual essay’s been missing for years, but it’s cited right there.” Sae-han chuckled. “They even claim that it changed Isshiki’s entire worldview, when she read it.”

“Fascinatin’.” Akechi said. “I gotta hand it to ya this time, Sae-han. You sure you wanna be a prosecutor? You might just have a career as a private eye, y’know.”

“It’s not all that. I only got a surname.” She sighed. “We’ve got a name, for all the good it does us. I doubt we can narrow one man down from all the Marukis who ever wrote a psych essay at the University of Tokyo.”

“...nah. That’s too long a shot.” Akechi agreed. And he was thankful. That was one less guy on the other end of his gun. “Are ya still going after the research?”

“I am. There are a few relatives still alive, a coworker who took in her daughter. If anyone has a chance at having it, it’s them.” Sae-han’s voice hardened. “I’ll obtain whatever’s left of this research. It’s the key to mental shutdowns. I’m sure of it.”

She hung up. Akechi stared at the phone. She...didn’t sound ok. She sounded almost obsessed, there, actually. He swiped to the Metaverse Navigator. “Nijima Sae, Mementos.” He said.

_ No navigation data. _

...he deleted the keywords. “Nijima Sae.” 

_ Match found. _

“Courthouse.”

_ Location found. _

She’d finally cracked. He thought he’d been helpin’ yesterday. Maybe it was just too damn late. He swallowed. Nijima Sae-han was always driven. Always competitive. Wouldn’t take the number two spot. She’d even work with a damn kid to get on top. And now she was finally over the edge.

Akechi couldn’t help but wonder how much of that was on him.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret nothing. Except maybe ruining the lives of characters I like. 
> 
> ...not even then. :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip down memory lane

_ 24th July, 2016 _

“It’s been too long,  _ Akira-chan!” _

Out of all the words anyone ever expected to hear in a crowded subway, Akechi was well aware that was pretty damn low on the list. And they especially didn’t expect to hear it from right next to their ear. His friends sure as hell didn’t expect him to pop up like that, if Ryuji’s quiet shriek was any indicator. But his Akira-chan was nothin’ if not resilient, and he took the surprise like a champ. “Akechi.” He nodded, turning slightly towards him. “You sleep this week?”

“Ya fancy yourself a comedian, huh?” He grumbled back. Then his grin was back as fast as it left. “That sushi I smell?”

“It’s for the cat.”

“Damn cat!” For some reason, Akira-chan’s eyes got a tiny bit far away when he said that, but it was gone before he could call attention to it. Instead, he looked around at all the familiar faces. One more familiar face than he expected. “Ya got a big group there, don’t ya? Nijima-chan, I didn’t know ya rolled with this crowd!”

“...Akechi-kun.” She sounded one part bemused, two parts defeated. “I’m surprised to see you here. I figured you would be at work.”

“Work’s whatever ya make it.” He shrugged. “Some jackass raided the underwear section of some store in the underground mall. I’m takin’ my break real quick, cuz it’s lookin’ to be an all nighter.”

“...oh.”

“Eh, it’s an easy case. I’ll have ‘em before mornin’ comes around.” Akechi reassessed the group. Ryuji, Ann, Makoto, the cat, Ren, and a kid with blue hair. Not quite common, except in the host clubs. “You’re...Kitagawa-han, yeah?” If ya knew the guy’s name, it was only respectful to be upfront about it.

“That would be me.” The guy seemed a little surprised, but not angry or anything. More cautious. “You are Akechi, then? Akira’s told us about you.”

“So informal, Kitagawa-han!” Akechi cooed. “But you’ve still got some of that stick jamped up there, eh? I bet you’ve pissed a few people off with that, eh?” He didn’t let the guy answer. “Stickin’ to your principles to the end’s a good way to be.”

“Is he always this crass?”

“Unfortunately,” Nijima sighed.

Akira shrugged. “He’s actually being pretty polite right now.”

“I’m always on my best behavior, Akira-chan!” He sobered up for a second. “Still, didn’t know ya rolled with these guys, Nijima-chan. I figured you’d be with the debate team or the treasurer, or somethin’ like that.”

“If one is to be a well rounded person, they need to know more experiences than the ones they’ve lived.” Nijima smiled the kind of exhausted smile you gave a curious eight year old when you just got off a six hour shift. “Though, the debate team might be good for Ryuji. He could use some skill in rhetoric.”

“Hey, he baits  _ me!” _ Ryuji took a step forward. 

Ann smacked him in the back of the head. “And you let him.” 

“That’s true, that’s true.” He exhaled. “But it sure kills an ol’ theory I’ve been bouncin’ around! Real disappointing, y’know?”

Tension. He was counting on that. Akira was the first to react. “Theories about us? That’s a little absurd, even for you.”

“Nothin’s too absurd for a guy like me. You know that.” Akechi grinned like nothing was wrong. “Besides, it was nothin’ dangerous or scary. I doubt you guys even know half the shit you’d need to be dangerous. And none of ya are subtle.”

“Alright.” Akira nodded. “Mind letting us in on the theory?”

Akechi’s smile grew. “I figured you were all a bunch of Phannies!”

Akira gave him another pained look. “Phannies.” Akechi nodded. “Like, frequent posters on the Phantom Thieves’ Phansite.”

“Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna tell anyone.” Akechi winked. “But look at all the evidence, yeah? Some students from Shujin who took the brunt of that sorry son of a bitch’s bullshit and the son of the bastard artist, all hangin’ around Shibuya like they’ve got nothin’ better to do.”

All of them were on edge now. He saw Akira’s bag shift underneath his arm. “...he’s perceptive. Akira, choose your words carefully, alright?” Akechi schooled his features. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for them to know he heard the damn thing, did it?

“So, you think we’re all connected by the Phantom Thieves, then?” Akira asked.

“It’s what makes the most sense.” Akechi said with a fake pep in his voice. “They helped all of ya, one way or another.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense.” Akira smiled apologetically. “That’s not really how it is, though. I met Ryuji and Ann on the way to school on day one. They knew each other from middle school, and we all became friends. Yusuke wanted to paint Ann and approached us about it. And Makoto was just keeping tabs on the Shujin delinquent.”

“Shujin delinquent?” Akechi scoffed. “She’s more dangerous than you are.”

“Who knows?” Akira said with a small smirk. “But that’s all there really is to our story. Just some high schoolers having a more interesting year than usual.”

“Really? Shame. I was hopin’ I could hold this over your head, extort some free meals outta ya for the trouble.” Akechi said shamelessly. “Gotta be careful how people might see you, though. Idiots in power get the funniest ideas, y’know? Figure they’ve got everythin’ sorted out, when they don’t know the first thing about shit.”

“...I’ll keep that in mind.” Akira slowly relaxed. “It’s not like it’s the first time the authoriies failed to do their jobs right.”

“And it wouldn’t be the last.” Akechi agreed.

“Akechi-kun, if you wouldn’t mind one question.” Nijima spoke up. “Why exactly do you know about Yusuke? Sis never mentioned anything about you being on the Madarame case.”

“That? Easy. I heard Madarame had a kid livin’ with him and figured I’d keep an eye on the case. Make sure social services did their damn job for once.” Akechi paused. “I’m an orphan. Bounced around for a bit, saw the worst the foster system had to offer. Figured I’d step in if shit got bad.”

“...you would go so far for a stranger?” Kitagawa asked. He had a light frown on his face.

“I’d go that far to do my damn job.” Akechi amended. “And to make sure another kid doesn’t end up gettin’ sent to a shitty abusive house for the sake of a check. This shit’s no joke.”

They all just looked at him with...something. Pity, maybe? Surprise? He didn’t really give a shit which it was. It just pissed him off all the same. Nijima finally spoke up. “I...didn’t know things were so bad for you.”

“It was.” He shrugged. “But when that’s all ya got, you make do. Simple as that. Nothing special about any of that.” Akira’s eyes glazed over for a solid second or two. Then he blinked, looking at Akechia with newfound...determination, maybe? He couldn’t quite tell. The guy might’ve just beeen constipiated

Kitagawa cleared his throat. “In any case, Akechi, thank you. Though your oversight proved unnecessary in the end, I truly appreciate the generosity.”

Akechi snorted. “No point appreciating generosity that never went anywhere. Save that shit for your little crew here, I’m sure they did a hell of a lot more for you than some halfassed detective looking over police reports.”

“I suppose they have.”

“Alright, then.” Akechi took a small step back and clapped. “Now, I’d love ta keep talkin’ with you guys for hours, but I’ve still got a panty thief to catch, and they ain’t getting away from me.”

He turned to walk away before a thought popped into the back of his head. “Ah, I almost forgot. If you guys  _ are _ fans of the Phantom Thieves, check out Medjed’s website again, will ya?” He turned with a wide smile. “Shit’s heatin’ up in the fight between vigilantes. If shit goes sideways I’m gonna need to start lookin’ into a part time job!”

Then he turned and walked away for real. Behind him, he heard someone mention Medjed, someone else mention some...Alibaba? It didn’t really matter all that much. This round was rigged in their favor, after all. IT guys were a real stick in the ass about it.

Akechi shoved his hands in his pockets. “The Phantom Thieves...a real interesting group, aren’t they?” He said to himself. Then he walked back into the underground mall. If there was one thing Tokyo didn’t need, it was  _ another _ Mr. Libido.

* * *

  
  


_ 28th July, 2016 _

Akechi walked through the back door of Serena like any other night, and Nishiki and Kiryu were sitting at the bar like they always did. Reina stood on the other side, matching their small talk and banter, giving a little extra appreciation to Nishiki’s side of things.

Not that the idiot would ever notice, Akechi thought. She could hit him with a bottle of champagne and declare her love, and all he’d notice was the waste of high-shelf liquor. 

Still, there was a normalcy here. Sure, he couldn’t drink shit but cola and water. Sure, he got called out half the time for work obligations. Sure, he was a detective drinking with two yakuza, and if word got out everything would tank. But he wouldn’t throw this shit away for any amount of security.

“Yo, Kiryu. Nishiki.” He dropped into the seat next to Nishiki, slinging an arm around the guy. “Ya do anythin’ I need to know about today? Pinched any robbers? Shook down and Shakedowns? Spent a few hundred thousand in a cabaret club?”

“That’s really the best greeting you’ve got?” Nishiki shrugged Akechi’s arm off of him. “I was just startin’ to like you, too. Reina, mind if we use the back lot for a few minutes?”

“You sure you can take me?” Akechi grinned. “This eye ain’t for show, y’know.”

Nishiki snorted. “You think an eyepatch’s gonna scare me? That means you  _ lost _ it. Taking you down would be a damn cakewalk.”

Kiryu picked up his glass, before setting it back down. “Whiskey sours with talk like that.” 

“Don’t give me that shit.” Nishiki shook his head. “Sour drinks or fresh, I’m pretty sure I’m the one buying tonight. So if you want fresh, better go for that wallet.”

Kiiryu shook his head with a small grin. “You lost fair and square. Don’t go sabotaging our night just because you can’t dance.”

Nishiki glared. Then he picked up his drink, took a long sip, and looked away. “Reina, these the kinds of guys you want as regulars?”

“You’re the one who brings them in, Nishikiyama-kun.” Reina cleaned a glass behind the counter and set it in front of Akechi. “It’s not my fault your friends are all bullies.”

“Gettin’ bullied by a kid still in high school’s really somethin’ else, eh,  _ Nishikiyama-kun?”  _ Akechi cackled. “Reina, mind tossin’ a cola on his tab?”

The man just groaned as Reina obliged.

“Did something hold you up, Akechi?” Kiryu’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed into a concerned frown, rather than an angry scowl or a depressed one or a happy one. It didn’t take Akechi long to realize the guy had a frown to fit every mood. 

Akechi waved it off. “Got caught up in some traffic, is all! Y’know how it is. Everyone tryin’ to cross at the same time, cars going in every direction, baby’s crying, mugger’s runnin’, and a homeless dude trying to sell you mahjong tiles.”

“Yeah.” Kiryu nodded. “Kamurocho has the strangest things happen.”

“I’ve never had half of that shit happen. Hell, Kiryu, you really expect me to believe you about this Mr. Shakedown guy?” Nishiki just looked between the two of them. “If I didn’t knw the two of you better, I’d say you’re just fucking with me, but I’m pretty sure you two just have the weirdest luck.”

“Ya never ran into the big guys?” Akechi asked. “Weirdest shit. Figured if you were half as tough as you act, they’d be up your ass too.”

“Do you want to get smacked?”

“Nishikiyama-kun, please.” Reina turned her glare at Akechi. “And Akechi-kun, stop antagonizing him. You’re more mature than that.”

“I am?” Her glare deepened. Akechi rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, sorry. I’m sure the reason Shakedown hasn’t gone after you is cuz you’ve got an ounce of fashion sense. Guys like Kiryu and I don’t stand a damn chance.”

“Damn straight.” Nishiki gave Kiryu a side-eye that he refused to return. “When are you gonna listen to me for once and get your sorry ass a decent suit?”

“I like this one.”

“The cut’s been out since the eighties. You look like a street punk.” Nishiki shook his head. “I swear, tryin’ to help you with this shit’s like trying to talk to a brick wall.”

Akechi leaned forward. “They talk about this a lot?”

“Every time they come.” Reina scoffed. “Nishikiyama-kun, I know Kiryu-san’s fashion is something you disapprove of, but you know he’s not going to change it. I’m sure he understands your point by now.”

“I doubt it.” Nishiki said. “Fine, fine. I’ll relax.” He lifted his glass up to his lips. It was empty. He put it back down with a sigh.

Kiryu closed his eyes. “Nishiki.” 

“I’m fine.” He slid his glass forward. “Reina, top me off?” He watched the amber liquor fill his glass. “That real estate business you’re doing on the side, Kiryu. You still looking for security?”

“If you need money—”

“I’m not takin’ your money without earning it.” Nishiki punched Kiryu in the chest. “Come on, bro. You think I’m dumb enough to borrow money from a yakuza? Just give me a shift or two.”

“If it’s for Yuko, I don’t mind.”

Nishiki waved it off. “I’ve got too much time on my hands, anyways. People’ve been honoring their debts lately. Leaves me with way too much to do.”

“Have you tried—”

“No, I haven’t. How you’ve done everything the city has to offer, I’ve got no clue.” Nishiki shook his head. “Besides, money. After tonight I’m gonna be tightening my belt for a while.”

Kiryu nodded. “The Media King district’s having some trouble with some of Shimano’s thugs trying to shakedown hotel guests. It’s Dojima turf, so you don’t have to worry about damage from up above. Is a million enough?”

“A million?!” Nishiki punched Kiryu in the shoulder. “Why the hell am I payin’ if you’ve got that kinda money sitting around?!”

“...I left my wallet at home.” Kiryu admitted. “Besides, it was a fair bet.”

“Fair my ass.” Nishiki shook his head. “Why am I surprised? You never spent money on anything for yourself. Why would you start now?”

Akechi hummed. “How long do you guys go back?”

“Forever.” Kiryu said. “We both grew up in Sunflower Orphanage. I haven’t been back in a while, though.”

“No, you haven’t. Yuko asked about you, last time I visited. Yumi, too.”

“Yumi asked about me?” Kiryu asked, a little too quickly.

“That’s all you’re gettin’ outta me. You want more, go pay them a visit for once. Kuze’d give you the leave.”

“Wait, I thought this Kuze guy hated you.” Akechi asked. “The hell’s this about?”

“He did.” Kiryu nodded. “He said I was a half assed yakuza.”

“What changed?”

Kiryu exhaled. “I grew up.” 

Akechi nodded and left it at that. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while. Reina cleaned stuff behind the counter. Kiryu and Nishiki just relaxed, sipping at their alcohol. Akechi closed his eye and just let himself fade away for a few minutes. 

“Yo, Akechi.” Nishiki’s words jarred him back to reality. “You know a lot about us, but you don’t talk much about yourself. The hell’s up with that?”

Akechi shrugged. “Eh. Wouldn’t want to bore you.”

“You’re out an eye and you’re a high school detective with a hundred odd cases under your belt.” He deadpanned. “How the hell are you gonna bore _ anyone _ with that.”

“Akechi-san.” Kiryu said. “You don’t have to tell us, if you don’t want to. But you were willing to put your head on the line for us with Shibusawa. So one day, we will return the favor.”

“You can trust us.” Reina finished.

Akechi looked at all of them. They were his friends, yeah. Two of them were yakuza and the third let an eighteen year old loiter in the bar. Let him stay there when the Dojima were prowlin’ the streets looking for trouble. They got nothing out of helping him, but did it anyways. They weren’t strangers to keeping things on the down low. If there was anyone in Tokyo he could trust besides the Nijimas and Akira-chan, it was these three.

“Alright.” He nodded. “I can’t say everything, though. Gotta keep my mysterious image, y’know?” Nishiki and Reina laughed, and Kiryu smiled. “So. I’m in the same boat as you two. Dad was never in the picture, and mother dearest decided shit wasn’t worth sticking out. Got bounced around in the system for a while. Lots of families don’t actually give a fuck about foster kids, funny enough. So you learn to stick with it quick.”

He paused. “I ended up stumblin’ into something bad. I guess my fosters at the time were in some shit, cuz one night I wake up and there’s a couple guys in my room with knives and guns. Grab me, drag me outside, throw me in the back of an unmarked van and take off. There were some other kids there, too, all around the same age. Older elementary school and younger middle school kids, the lot of us.”

All kids of women Shido screwed during a vacation in Kansai. Akechi doubted they were all his. He was just the type to be thorough about these things. “So they started drivin’, trying to get outta town, it looked like. Probably to kill us and bury us outside of town. I objected to that. Managed to squeeze out of the zipties they used on us, grabbed the wheel, ran us straight into a wall. Crash was bad.” He pointed at his eyepatch. “It’s how I got this, actually. Piece of the hood tore off, cut right in. Hurt like a motherfucker.

“Came to, and the hitmen were pissed. Kickin’ some of the people on the ground. A few kids were running. One girl wasn’t.” He paused. I got up, stabbed one of ‘em in the leg with a piece of glass, grabbed her by the hand, and ran. Kept running till we hit the river. Asked a homeless guy for help, and he pointed me in the right direction.”

He took a deep breath. “So, some more shit happened, life changes and shit, and I decided I wasn’t gonna let this shit fly. So I took some classes, started some cases, made a name for myself. Then I transferred up here to Tokyo, took on work with the police and on a case by case basis, so I can look for this bastard myself. And when I find him,” His voice dropped an octave, “he’ll get what’s comin’.”

He finally looked at them. He half expected Kiryu to be just as calm as ever, for Nishiki to make some smartass comment and Reina to scold him. As if shit would just go back to normal after saying some shit like that.

He’d never really seen Kiryu angry up close. Sure, during the fight with Shibusawa, he saw Shibusawa’s cognition of Kiryu, his idea of him fighting. One softened by distance and the perceptions of a megalomaniac. But now he could see it written on his face, the tension in his jaw, the curled lip and deep scowl over eyes of fire.

Nishiki’s rage was similar, but not the same. It was the coiled fists and grit teeth and tense shoulders like he was ready to throw down against whatever he needed to, if only it was right in front of him to drive his fists into.

Reina’s reaction was muted shock. Wide eyes, a hand over her mouth, the dirty glasses abandoned on the bar and the rag on the floor. It was the look of a civilian looking in and seeing the  _ personal  _ ugly side of the underworld, not just the rumors around Kamurocho or the knowledge that people’s lives were ruined every day. Not an ignorant, one. Just someone who wasn’t quite ready for it to be thrown in their face like this.

It wasn’t just about being able to trust, with a story like that. It was about whether they were able to handle it. Whether they could accept that someone could go through some shit, that the world was so cruel. And whether he could trust them with that last line. Whether they could forgive a real wish to kill someone.

All he knew right now was that this silence was killin’ him.

“...Akechi.” Kiryu said. No honorifics. He turned his head to look at Akechi head on. “The person who came after you. And these other kids. Are they Tojo Clan?”

His voice was harsh and cut straight to the point. No room for bullshit here. “I don’t know.” Akechi said honestly. “Shit went down in Kansai. That says Omi. But they’ve been operatin’ in Tokyo for a while, now. I figure it’s more than just one guy. An Omi with Tojo ties, or the other way around.”

Nishiki looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “And meeting us while the old man was out of town. You think we’ll take that as some coincidence?” His eyes narrowed. “You were scouting Kazama, weren’t you?”

“No.” Akechi shook his head. “Had no clue who Kiryu-chan was until you showed up. After that it was just a good ol’ day on the town.”

Nishiki held his glare, but finally let it drop. “Fuck.” He said, shaking his head. “Talk about a raw deal.”

“Eh. Missing eye’s free publicity, and I get by without it.” Akechi shrugged. “Ya wanna pity anyone, pity the other kids. A few weeks later, they found ‘em all in the Sotenbori River. Only ones who got away were me and the girl.”

“That’s horrible,” Reina said. It was. There wasn’t to say to that, though. Reassurance would be empty. No one was safe until Akechi tore Shido from his throne, and it was as simple as that. 

Hours later, he got home and sat down against the wall. He stared at the opposite wall for a while. He wasn’t feelin’ very tired. The shadows in the room shifted and shifted. The facedown picture frame was just past his foot. He pulled himself up and looked at it for the first time in months.

It was daylight, in the picture, and he was years younger. His hair was less frizzy there, pulled into a ponytail. His eyepatch was a little less well-made, a little shoddier, and his school uniform was dirty, but he had a smile on his face.

At the center was a massive man in a tank top. His arms and shoulders were covered in tattoo sleeves, and he had them slung over the shoulders of the two kids in front of him. The man who saved them and took them in. He smiled sadly. The big guy and him were similar, too similar. Too willing to get their hands dirty for everyone else. It got the old man a lot farther than it’d gotten him so far, though.

He finally looked at the last person. The young woman looked even younger than he did there. Her hair was a short bob reaching her neck and not much farther. It was cute. It was very her. He knew there was a thin scar somewhere under that head of hair, but she hid it well enough.

The girl he pulled out of that damn van and dragged across Osaka. The girl he killed a man for before he even knew her name. The only other survivor of that shitty wreck. 

He wasn’t much closer to icing Shido’s guys than he was a month ago. But that was gonna change. All he needed was a few names. Just a few names, and it would all be over. He’d sooner die than let them get away.

He was gonna build a world where his savior and the only one he’d ever saved would never have to look over their shoulders again. After that, nothing else mattered.

  
  



End file.
